Tune In
by Capesandshapes
Summary: After college Stephanie finds herself a journalist working at a tabloid magazine, close but not close enough to her dream. She swears she will never return to Gotham, and for a total of five years that seems to work well enough. But with the high profile wedding of Tim Drake and Tam Fox approaching, Stephanie finds herself as the only one allowed behind scenes coverage.
1. Dancing in the Moonlight

_"Everybody here is out of sight, they don't bark and they don't fig—"_

She could have sworn she put new batteries in that damn thing yesterday, there was no way she listened to this piece of junk so often that it could die just like that.

Stephanie sighed as she dug in her backpack again, mumbling to herself that she should have put another set of double D batteries in her bag.

If she had to admit to herself today that carrying around an old hand radio from the late eighties to early nineties was a bad idea then that would just be the topper on the, "You're not a superhero, Stephanie Brown" train. Even if the radio was gifted by her father, it was technically hers after this long and the only thing that she would keep despite possible illegality.

She sighed and ran her finger over the name Stephanie engraved on the side of the radio before smacking it on the rooftop of her suburban house.

Still no luck.

Stephanie groaned and pulled her knees into her sweatshirt.

Another night without music.

"And what are you doing at this time of night, Miss Stephanie Brown?"

Oh great, Alvin Draper.

"I'm looking at the sky, boy blunder."

"Why?"

"I like clouds."

"It's night."

"Clouds exist at night."

He strolled over to her, his hands behind his back as he leaned over her shoulder to look at what she had. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"It looks like a radio, retro."

Who on god's green earth unironically says retro? Dear god, Mr. Nineties kid and his goddamn retro.

"I was listening to it, it's dead."

"On your roof? You should listen somewhere safer, your dad's not exactly popular and this isn't a safe neighborhood."

"This is the only place I can get a signal for my station, the unbelievably early seventies to late eighties rock isn't exactly the most popular station in the world. Shame too, quality of it is amazing."

"Your station?"

He finally sat next to her instead of looming over her.

She couldn't help but notice the way that his thigh pressed against hers, his shoulder a mere inch away but his face far closer than it had been before.

"More my dad's but, it's the radio station he would play when I was younger." She paused, clearing her throat, "You know when things were better."

Robin shifted against her, his shoulder finally contacting hers.

"You know, things aren't always shitty," She replied to his uncomfort. "People who are bad weren't always bad, they used to be good at some point."

The air fell heavy with silence.

'Alvin Draper', or Robin, or whatever his name was this week; seemed concerned.

She made eye contact with him.

She dropped the radio on the roof and forced it to manage another line before quitting again.

'It's such a fine and natural sight—'

She sighed.

"What batteries does it take? I can pick some up on my way around the neighborhood."

"It's fine."

"Looks like double Ds, I can grab those."

"Look," She began. "It's fine, it's just a battery eater anyway." She sighed, wrapping her arms around the legs still trapped in her sweatshirt and resting her chin upon the worn material.

She closed her eyes, wished to be anywhere less embarrassing—

 _Buzz_

Radio static filled the air, she opened her eyes and turned to the source.

Alvin was fiddling with his responder attached to his chest.

He shoots her an earnest smile before he finally reaches the station, the air filling with music once more. She watched him with curiosity as he slowly attempted to lip the words to her.

 _"Blinded by the light, lit up like a"_

* * *

 _"Douche."_ Stephanie's corrected her friend.

Carrie simply responded to the statement with a laugh, stirring her coffee.

The two women sat across from each other, as was typical of their normal mid-break Wednesday brunch. Stephanie Brown, a tall blonde in a rather ratty gray sweatshirt with beaten up jeans, dug into her waffles like it was her last meal when it was instead just endless pancake day at the IHOP. Carrie, her shorter friend with a red pixie cut who was much better dressed in less ragged shorts and a tank top, sat across from her eating the cereal that she had regulated herself to eat so that she could 'be in shape' after being winded taking the stairs to the second-floor last week. Somehow despite their rather unprofessional appearance, they managed to sit in contrast to the IHOP, which had many health code violations and types of mold.

"No, I'm telling you, he's an absolute douchebag." She took a bite out of her plate of waffles like a lioness tearing meat from the bone. "Tim Drake is an absolute, one hundred percent, FDA certified; douchebag."

"And you're an expert on the Wayne's? I don't think you've ever written a single article about them for the Daily Gab." Carrie countered.

"I'm from Gotham, I'm an expert on all things Gotham." Another feral bite from the blonde as her redheaded friend laughed at her response. "Just because you had one interview with Tim Drake, does not mean that you know him better than a true Gotham native."

" _A true Gotham native?_ Steph, you kill me. Brenda says you're not even from the same side of town as the Waynes, the chances of you knowing what they _look like_ is slim."

"The suburbs of Gotham are the real side of Gotham, they were a hotbed of villainous activity in the eighties!"

"And you were born in the nineties. What does any of this have to do with the Waynes?"

"All I'm saying is you see the bad side of town and you get the idea of the bad side of Waynes. They're just philanthropists for public's sake, and Tim? Not a good bone in his body, a complete douchebag, you could say he kicks women in the abdomen in his free time."

"And yet the Daily Gab named him the hottie of the week for 13 weeks, most eligible bachelor, and now his marriage is going to be our front page. Amazing, Steph." Carrie snorted into her chocolate milk.

"I'm telling you, the devil in disguise. I pity the girl stuck with that nerd with a noose."

"Tam Fox."

Stephanie swallowed her waffle in a manner that allowed it to scrape the side of her throat, causing her to choke slightly.

Carrie watched bemused and kicked the other woman under the table.

"Tam Fox?" Stephanie somehow managed to gasp out.

"Yeah, like super lawyer Tam Fox? Children lover? Superhero supporter who just so happens to be involved in inheritance law?" Carrie rolled her eyes. "Come on, you must know her, aside from all that she's practically a model."

Steph sunk in her chair, "I do know her."

"She's a catch."

"Yeah," Her chair suddenly felt a bit too tall and she sank slightly to the floor. "She is."

Carrie managed to not notice this, continuing their conversation as the blonde contemplated drowning in syrup.

"You know, you should throw your application in to the Gotham coverage with me, being a native and all. Then you can have an actual opinion on Tim Drake."

"I'd rather be eaten by rats." She snarled.

Carrie rolled her eyes, splashing a little of her cereal milk at Stephanie. The blonde retaliated by dipping her syrup covered fork in Carrie's milk.

"Hey!" Carrie whined.

"Honestly, though, there is absolutely nothing that could possibly be worse than returning to Gotham. I'm talking decapitation, being hung by my toenails, cleaning out Deborah's overcrowded cubicle with my bare hands. I would rather drink sparkling water as a hangover cure than going back to 'Crime City, Population: Batman.'"

"Oh." Carrie had become rather downtrodden during Stephanie's rant, much to the neglect of her companion. "That's really unfortunate."

"Not really?" Steph laughed, putting down her fork atop her half-eaten pancake. "Hey, you okay?"

"You're gonna kill me."

"Why?" She asked.

"You are absolute, one hundred percent, gonna kill me." Carrie groaned.

Now Steph was concerned.

"Why?" She yelled slightly, "What did you do?

"I can't tell you."

"Carrie, you will tell me if you value your life." Stephanie threatened, half-jokingly.

"I may have told our boss something about you being from Gotham, really knowing the area… Being able to get more stories out of it than me or anyone else."


	2. Shoop

"I didn't know you hated it that much," Stephanie repeated in a rather high pitched voice as she drove her beat-up car up to the entrance of Gotham.

Of course, the town sign would now include a bat signal. She sighed and turned up the rap song on the radio.

"Stupid Carrie," Stephanie muttered as she entered Gotham, driving through the connecting streets behind the harbors.

It was a special talent of Gotham that when you had to drive slowly everyone managed to look as criminal as possible. A shipyard worker with a rather unfortunate scarring on his face cast her car a look.

She became acutely aware of the fact that everything she owned was in this car and that it would be hard to live for the duration of two months with absolutely nothing.

It's times like this she wishes she stayed in the ass-kicking business.

She finally reached a portion where she could speed up and return to the highway from what she had previously assumed to be a 'good' shortcut.

She started to press her pedal to the metal when a red blur appeared behind her.

Ah, a motorcyclist, god's favorite type of asshole.

This guy honestly didn't care she was there as he was practically in her asshole.

Man, he even had a douche haircut, black hair with a white stripe.

"Stop being a fucking yeast infection." She replied as the guy tried to past her.

Fuck, she must have run over something because her car just leaped in the air.

 _That guy is doing some weird hand signals._

 _It's probably a gang sign._

Oh no, he's just gesturing for her to pull to the side.

 _As if. She accelerated far too much._

 _Is it even safe to us both of your hands to signal?_

Another leap.

It slowly dawned on Stephanie that there might be something wrong.

She thanked god that she was in the right most lane of traffic on the freeway and started to pull to the side as she came up the bridge.

Other cars seemed to shoot away.

The man on the motorcycle was coming up quick and shouting something.

Stephanie cursed her inability to read lips.

"Flow? What? Does he want me to look at the river?" She screamed in return, "It flows nice, yes!"

The man approached even faster.

Something earth shattering must have hit the ground because the next thing she knew him trying to turn his bike to ride up next to her car turned into his bike flying at her head and her collapsing to the ground as she knee-jerk reacted and pulled douche man off his cycle.

"Are you crazy?" He screamed at her.

He was quite beautiful.

Very well built, very nice blue eyes, a bit heavy feeling but it must be hundred or so pounds of muscle above her.

He rolled off her as something smashed next to her head.

"For god's sake, are you stupid?" He yelled louder at her.

She wasn't quite sure what his face looked like at this moment, as she had reflexed and closed her eyes.

She opened them now, it seemed pretty man moonlighted as a luchador.

 _Wait-_

She rolled away with a yelp.

Pretty man/doucheguy turned into the Redhood while both the luchador and her weren't paying attention.

She struggled to her feet as the database within her brains tried to come up with a Mexican wrestler vil- Oh.

Bane was turning to grab her car.

Bane was luchador man.

…Her car.

"Oh fuck no." She muttered.

"Step aside blondie, I'll take care of this." The Redhood replied.

"Like hell you are, he is not going to smash my car." She retorted.

She began marching up to the larger man.

"Blondie, I have this handled, I'm a professional."

"Like hell you are!" She screamed, approaching the luchador like a wild cat stalking its prey.

The luchador paid the woman no heed.

She set off her car's help button, starring at Bane defiantly.

"You should leave things to the heroes!" Mr. Sexyface Dumbpants yelled to her.

Steph clapped her hands over her head to get Bane's attention.

"Hey, asshole!"

The over muscular man turned his head to her with a confused expression.

"Dick for brains!"

He tilted his head.

"Literal dirty thong of a person!"

Oh, now he was ticked. He tossed the woman an irritated smile.

"What is it, Chiquita?"

"That's my car."

"It is?"

"It is."

He slightly tilted her car.

"I don't have insurance." Stephanie quickly lied. "Do you know what a bitch this would be without insurance?"

He seemed to consider his. "Ah, but the paperwork."

"I'd rather do paperwork than have to buy a new car," Steph replied. "Can you just put it down?"

Bane squinted at her. "I have to throw this at him, see."

Redhood made a grunt.

Ah, he was loading something.

Who shows up to fights with guns unloaded?

How un-superhero.

"You can't throw something else? Tackle him? Man, how are you even lifting that car?"

"Venom."

Jason rolled his eyes as he ran up beside her.

Who the fuck was this woman?

"Okay, well does venom give you the right to lift a car?"

"I'm a villain."

"And I'm a reporter. You think I can afford to replace a car?"

BANG.

Oh god.

Her ear fucking hurt.

"What the literal hell, man?" Stephanie turned back to Redhood as Venom slowly crumpled under her car. "Warn someone!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt the wonderful conversation." He rolled his eyes, passing by her.

Venom was currently a speedbump under her car.

"Man, if my car is fucked up— "

"What?" He taunted, "You have no insurance, so less paperwork for me."

Oh, the retorts she could come up with.

 _I'll bill Bruce Wayne._

 _I will crush your self-esteem, wheel boy._

But Redhood doesn't know who she is, and she doesn't know who Redhood 'really' is, aside from crazy dead Jason guy.

* * *

Her car did drive but also now made a sound like a thousand butterflies screaming.

She sighed as she began to unpack the five boxes containing all her earthly goods into the far nicer than she expected apartment.

The diamond district, of course they'd want a reporter to live in the most luxurious place in all of Gotham when she was writing a piece on them.

Like diamonds, Stephanie supposed, the Waynes were a bunch of overpriced rocks found in dangerous holes.

And by that, she meant, mainly Tim.

She supposed, as she unpacked her box of clothing, that her hatred of Tim was something that developed slowly, like a cabbage or some other lesser vegetable.

It isn't the one day when your boyfriend goes crazy and kicks you that really gets you, nor is it several assholish encounters, or him telling you that you'll never be a hero.

It's probably his reaction to you finally hanging up the cape when your mother sobbed in the hospital room after you nearly killed yourself.

You just barely manage to limp your way out of the hospital and he grabs you, listens to you say it, then he says his killer word.

"Good," Stephanie muttered it under her breath, more bitter than a yellow warheads candy.

She sighs, shoving the unfolded shirts in a drawer and keeping one aside to put on after a shower.

She unpacks a few more things like this, pulling out her bathing supplies after she's deemed her unpacking done for the day. She makes sure to grab the t-shirt, some underwear with a sassy saying on the ass, and a towel before ducking into her bathroom to shower.

The bathroom is immaculate and white, like the rest of her apparent was. Modern and boring. There are no stains in her shower, unlike the one at home, and this one has a far nicer tub.

She sighs and decides today warrants a bath, turning the knob.

A t-shirt that says "Get you an AquaMAN", underwear donning the word "Freakday", soaps; She's forgetting something.

Radio.

Big metal horrible radio, yes.

She exits the bathroom, leaving the door open for her immediate re-entrance.

Marching back to the bedroom where she threw the radio upon her bed she hums to herself.

There's shuffling and scooting in the background on her way to the bathroom.

She places the radio in the bathroom with a confused look on her face before beginning to explore what could possibly be happening.

Bedroom, clear.

Bathroom obviously clear.

Living room, okay.

A throat clearing sounds in the background as she peeks under the couch. Her head darts up and she sees it, a black silhouette placed upon her kitchen chair.

A large gulp of air is taken in.

She makes out the red and—

"What the fuck, man?"

Stephanie Brown stands up and faces her arch nemesis sitting happily in her dining chair in his costume.

Tim Drake.


	3. No Sugar Tonight

"Steph."

"Get out of my apartment." She snarled.

"I just wanted to talk to you!" He held up his hands in defense.

"We'll talk. I'll have a recorder and every horrible word you say will go to print." She retorted, stalking from the couch with a throw pillow in her hand. "What are you doing here? Why are you wearing that?" She whipped the pillow into his stomach.

"I was on patrol, I figured you'd moved in by now." His voice was innocent, but Stephanie knew his body was a wonderland of sin.

"So you broke into my apartment? Did I occur to you to leave when you heard my bathtub starting or were you going to wait here all night?"

"We both know you listen to music—"

"When I'm bathing, thank you for reminding me more that I wouldn't like you to know about me." Stephanie Brown had a talent of looking very much like a snake when she glared.

It was quite frankly terrifying.

"We're going to see each other some—"

"In a professional setting, we are going to see each other in a professional setting." Stephanie retorted. "I'm a professional now, remember? Not just a kid whose house you can break into at will."

"But we can also communicate in a social setting." Tim Drake replied, his tongue hitting the word sociable in a way that conjured up images of a nerd discussing the rules of the fifth edition of DND. "I could take you grocery shopping."

"The only thing you should be taking is a long drop out my window, away from me."

He frowned at her like she was some sort of crazy madwoman for not wanting to go grocery shopping with him.

"Fuck you." Stephanie vocalized.

"What?" He countered, surprised and confused.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm missing out on the great secret that is Tim Drake." She squinted at him before turning her head toward the fridge. With a march, she opened the door and showed the contents. Three white castle burgers. "I have enough to eat anyway."

"You're not missing out on me, you know me. But those burgers hardly count as food." Tim motherfucking annoying as hell boot me out a window throw a mug at my head drake.

"See, I used to think I knew you, but god knows I didn't."

Tim sighed, leaning back in her chair before she kicked out the leg, forcing him to fall back first on the tile. He glared at her from his back on the ground, before getting to his feet.

His mask was still firmly in place, he felt to make sure.

She made a noise of disgust.

He rolled his eyes at her.

She gestured to the window above the sink that she had left open early that day. It was obvious that was his choice of the entrance as it had no screen.

He sighed.

* * *

Stephanie Brown sat facing her future, a fiftysomething blonde with a disappointed look in her eyes.

In the morning hours, Stephanie had called her mother, Crystal Brown to inform her that yes she did manage to make it into town in one piece. For some reason, Crystal Brown did not entirely believe this fact and insisted on seeing her daughter in person.

This led to their current encounter, in which the both of them are in her mother's favorite restaurant, Victor's.

Stephanie Brown sat in her seat across from her mother, picking at a moderately priced greek salad as her mother indulged herself in falafel to an ungodly extent.

"And you honestly need to do this article?" Crystal brown questioned.

Steph swallowed a cherry tomato whole before responding, "Mom, I'm sure. It was heavily hinted that if I turn this down my boss will be disappointed."

"All I'm saying is, if you can, don't." Crystal shook her head at her daughter. "It's just too close to how things used to be, I don't want this to end with you getting hurt."

"Mom, I have steeled myself against Tim Drake and guys like him."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Oh.

Steph cast her eyes away from her mother.

"You were seriously injured." Crystal continued. "You're lucky to still be here."

"I know."

The older woman shook her head. "No you don't, you're lucky you can walk at this point."

"Mom-"

"A building fell on you, Stephanie." Crystal sighed. "What part of that do you not understand?"

"It wasn't the first time."

"It was the first time you had to be kept for two weeks, you're lucky that Leslie was there otherwise someone else would have had to take the mask off."

"It wasn't that bad."

"You were hardly breathing, you had eight breaks and a multitude of fractures, not to mention the concussion."

"But I'm okay now."

"So long as you stay away from your previous trouble." Her mother sighed. "I refuse to watch you killing yourself daily."

In a way that reminded her mother much of Stephanie Brown seven years ago, the other woman sighed and mumbled a response of, "Who wants to live forever?"

* * *

Again, I'm so sorry to tell you, Tim is so busy I had to double book you today. He insists you'll have to perform your first interview as he goes grocery shopping or miss out entirely."

* * *

Nutrigrain?"

"God no," Stephanie replied as they lingered too long in the health food aisle. "First engagement?"

"Yes." He replied, holding up a whole grain pasta blend. "Multicolored penne?"

"No." She rolled her eyes at the situation in general. Her second day and she had seen Tim twice and suffered his unbearable personality a thousand times. "First time considering engagement?"

He looked at her carefully. "Yes." Picking up a jar of organic vodka sauce, "Vodka sauce?"

"Is there sugar?" She asked. A swallow without meaning too at the question on her sheet up next, "How many girlfriends?"

"How many boyfriends?" He rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to write down too many." Stephanie countered him.

"Write three." His voice was even. "Reality is confusing."

"You're disgusting," Stephanie replied.

"How many boyfriends?"

"Fuck off." She shook her head, bending down and grabbing a can of alfredo sauce, extra cheesy.

He kneeled down beside her. "How many?"

"Fuck off." She replied more venomously. She crawled away from him on her knees a bit.

"How many?" He seemed too curious.

"Why is it your business?" She responded a bit too loudly, a woman across the aisle pulled her uniform wearing brat into her hip and muttered under her breath about couple disputes.

He seemed to think of this for a moment before standing back up.

She blinked at him from the ground. "Two."

"Fair."

"How did you meet her?"

"The real story or?" He began.

"The bad one."

His smile reached his eyes.

"Okay, okay, more cheesy question?" She stood up and deposited the pasta sauce into the cart.

"Go for it."

"What do you like best about her?" She started to pull the cart without his permission, he moved to the handle to gain control.

Control was a bad idea, as he slipped and rammed the cart into Stephanie's side. She squeaked in paid and cast him a glare. He blinked in response as she began to massage her side and the customers surrounding them stared.

"Seriously Tim?"

He shook his head.

"Her smile."

Steph wasn't convinced.

She moved to the less dangerous side of the cart and walked beside it. Pressuring him to turn into the sweets aisle.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ran all the chapters through another grammar check and fixed many awkward portions.


	4. Who Wants to Live Forever?

The phone screen flickered on and off as a variety of texts flowed into Stephanie's phone, her many friends in Gotham being now made aware of her return.

With a few subsequent rings indicating a phone call, Stephanie Brown finally awoke.

The screen read Babs, her heart read fear.

She attempted to hang it up again, accidentally pushing the wrong button.

She flailed the phone out of her lap with a shriek.

It fell to the floor and filled the air with the booming voice of Barbara Gordon.

Stephanie Brown shrieked again and fell to the floor.

The door of the apartment began to be banged as Barbara's words blurred in the distance.

Something something door

Stephanie's leg suddenly began to cramp  
she knew she couldn't answer the door.

Barbara's voice was beginning to inform her to open the door.

* * *

"Nice to see you're still alive." Was Barbara Gordon's harsh reply when Stephanie brown finally managed to open the door.

The younger women raised her hands in front of her face defensively, the older woman scanning her from her wheelchair.

A messed-up bun, Starbucks pajama shorts, and a t-shirt that said 'I guess you could say I'm kind of a BAT guy.'

Unsurprising really.

"Nice to see you haven't changed after five years." The red head snarked, wheeling into the apartment before the blonde could retort.

Babs set herself beside the pristine white couch provide kindly by the renter. Stephanie found herself nervously following the woman as she settled herself.

Babs had been sufficiently satisfied with her placement and appeared ready for the confrontation that was obviously meant to occur.

"Listen Babs—" Stephanie began.

"Now you're going to talk to me? Five years after you disappear into thin air?"

Stephanie deflated even further, Barbara couldn't help but notice a small muffin top.

"After all the trouble you caused to be a hero, after all the trouble you caused me to be Batgirl, this is how you repay us all? You ran off without a word."

"To be fair, a building did fall on— "

Stephanie realized that this was one of the worst people to mention an injury to and was quickly assured of that fact.

"I was _shot_ and I'm still here." Barbara's voice was raised.

"My mother looked at my crumpled—" Stephanie tried to argue.

"My father looked at his little girl shot in the spine and knew she would never walk again."

"My mother- "

"You think my father wasn't upset? You think he wanted this for me?"

She couldn't even let her get a word in edgewise, typical Barbara. Time to change tactics.

"I was a little girl on the rooftop trying to be a hero, remember?" Stephanie countered. "I'm the one you all told not to. The one who wouldn't be good enough, wouldn't be skilled enough."

"I never-."

Barbara had taken her argument and tried to lie that she had not done so. Stephanie, however, felt a wave of emotion with this argument.

"You did!" She didn't even realize she was yelling. "You did over and over again! You told me to go back home and get a normal life while I still had the chance! You and Tim told me every day! I had to put up with you! I had to put up with Bruce! Every robin telling me I wasn't enough."

"Everyone has to— "

"Barbara, I was just a kid whose dad did some bad things." Stephanie finalized her argument. "I just wanted to believe that I could do some good."

"You did good! Congrats! And then you left us all!"

"I wanted to move on! For the sake of everyone around me! I grew up and felt that I had proved I wasn't like him!"

"Congratulations then! You did such a great job! What a great unannounced retirement to leave the rest of us scrambling for someone to fill your place!" Barbara's voice was high, almost taunting.

"I told Tim."

"And Tim didn't believe you." A great point by Barbara Gordon.

"He told me it was good."

"The idea was good, he didn't believe you would do it." The redhead was beginning to ease into a more conversational tone once more.

Stephanie tried to imitate her, failing to sound less emotional than she really was. "Tim knew that it was the end."

"How would he know that?" Stephanie had finally toppled onto the couch beside Barbara and the older woman used the ability to view the younger woman's eyes to her advantage. "Every other time you say you're done you come back."

"That is not true about other aspects of my life, Stephanie Brown is a very committed individual— "

"I can name numerous occasions when that statement is incorrect." Did she sound amused? Oh, wow that-  
That probably was a good thing.

"Name one." Stephanie's tone became more conversational.

"Mashed potatoes." Oh yes, that was a lot of amusement. "You said you were never going to eat another bowl of mashed potatoes after your drunken night out—You then had Alfred make you a large bowl while engaging in a casual visit with Bruce the next day."

* * *

The natural chemistry Between Barbara Gordon and Stephanie had played out over the course of three hours as they fell back into a sort of tentative friendship once more. The five-year question still looming in the air, but the two getting along far better.

Stephanie had convinced Barbara to stray from her meal of takeout and eat with her.

She now stood in the plain brick wall kitchen as Barbara remained by the couch keeping casual conversation with her.

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how much of an idea do you have of how to prepare quinoa?" Stephanie jokingly questioned from across the counter.

"Another food obviously not purchased by Stephanie Brown." Barbara countered.

"Tim forced me into bad grocery shopping."

"He's very health conscious now that he is about to marry Tam. I've almost been convinced that he believes in that superfood nonsense."

"Yeah, it's not really Tim-ish, but to be honest I don't really know Tim anymore." Stephanie shrugged, pouring the whole bag of quinoa into boiling water.

She's pretty sure it's a bean.

Or sad rice.

"I honestly thought he would hold out until you came back," Barbara admitted.

"Nah, she fits him in a way. I thought about it last night." Stephanie admitted. "They're both really into rules and being smart, being good. The name our tabloid came up with for them is Timtam, which is also a good cookie, they sell them at Target. It's meant to be if they make a chocolate covered biscuit with their names."

"I had hopes for you, however." Barbara laughed. Stephanie peaked quickly over the counter to see her smiling.

"Well, what can I say? They call me Stephanie hopeless Brown." She turned her back to Babs and went to grab something to add to this quinoa monstrosity from the freezer.

Peas, peas are okay.

"I mean, I thought for a moment that maybe there was something for you."

"A happy ending?"

"There are no happy endings, Stephanie Brown." Barbara rolled her eyes. "Not for us."

"Then what?"

"Some sort of finality."

Stephanie scoffed at the idea of Tim Drake being her finality. At the thought of a smelly layered object that made her cry too often, Stephanie remembered an onion that she had been cutting earlier.

"You know, someone's got to get it right, even if Dick and I never did— "

"How is Dickybird?" Stephanie interrupted.

"He's with Kori."

Shit, fuck cutting up the onions. Just toss it in.

"She's good," Stephanie replied. "She's got a great ass-…sortment of traits." Babs had given her a warning look.

"She's good, better than I was." Barbara decided. "Do you need help cooking?

"How so? And yeah—I could use a little help."

Barbara rolled herself to the counter, which rested at an awkward height. Stephanie pushed her a cutting board with several carrots to be chopped atop it.

She was relieved, to say the least when Barbara's knife skills were just as bad as her own.

So much for superheroes being super great at everything.

"I mean, she can walk for one."

"Yeah, but who really gives a shit about stuff like that? You can talk! And aren't orange!"

"He can dance with her, Dick loves to dance— "

"He can dance with you."

"He needs someone to walk along the beach with, he doesn't need someone to push across the sand."

"Who's to say he has to push you? The Barbara I know would never let anyone push her."

"It's just better for him, she's happier." The knife was getting dangerous close to Barbara's fingers, Stephanie grabbed it before anything could happen. Barbara stared at her for a second before nodding in acknowledgment of the fact she had let herself lose focus and almost hurt herself. "Sorry."

"You're real, though."

The air filled with silence.

"I hope you like crappy food," Stephanie admitted to Barbara, changing the subject.

* * *

Barbara finally left many hours later, the two of them giving in and ordering takeout from the Greek place down the street after the quinoa mess was deemed an absolute and utter failure.

While no all sins were absolved, Stephanie felt herself feeling a little better on the terms she was on with Barbara, along with looking forward to the promise of Cass's visit in the upcoming days.

She was now getting ready for bed once more, changing out of the pajamas she wore the duration of Barbara's visit and into a new set.

A simple set of pajama pants and a grease-stained t-shirt was deemed enough. She went to the bathroom and began to run the faucet when the all too familiar sound hit the air.

Police sirens.

Against her better judgment, she found herself walking into the living room with toothbrush still in mouth, opening the large full-length window's curtain to view the world just outside her window.

A d-list criminal had snatched a purse, easily taken care of by Gotham's finest.

Normal.

He resisted too much but otherwise normal.

She found herself watching and lazily running the brush along her teeth as she did so, perched on the couch with her knees pulled to her chin.

For second in between laughing at the crooks many attempts to trick the police into releasing him, she saw a flash of red on a rooftop.

She held her breath for a minute, another flash of red on a neighboring rooftop, she got the distinct feeling she was being watched…


	5. I Want to Break Free

Deep down Stephanie Brown knew that she had no real reason to go outside. In a city of superheroes where over half wore red, there was no real reason to worry about a red shadowy figure upon a rooftop.

So why did she throw on a sweatshirt and go outside?

More importantly, why did she throw on just a sweatshirt and go outside?

If she was being truthful it was the hope that Tim was watching her after her long day of talking about him.

But if she was being Stephanie she would say that it was likely some freak trying to case the joint.

It didn't matter anymore, her beaten tennis shoes were up against the sidewalk and she was already shivering outside in her sweatshirt.

She had already managed to round the corner where the cops were relatively undetected and walked through in the cover of shadows.

But just as she had managed to catch the glimpse of red she had already crossed the street.

She silently swore, it seemed that she was not going to catch the creep without some hard effort.

She made a hard cut into an alley, feeling the eyes sawing into the back of her head as she did so.

A fire escape was folded up above the trash, as per the typical Gotham route. She jumped with all she had to reach it, just missing the bar.

A climb onto trash for Stephanie Brown it was.

Thanking god for the people who owned this building thinking to have metal trash bins in the goddam 2010s, she climbed atop it and hopped once more, praying that she wouldn't miss this time and fall in the trash.

Her hand caught the end of the escape.

In the old days, there would be an acrobatic trick or multitude of flips onto the ladder. But the Stephanie Brown that existed now was out of shape to a point where that idea was almost laughable.

She instead attempted a pull-up and managed to get up the bar far enough to reach the next bar.

She felt the eyes on her head once more.

The air heard a chuckle.

"Don't you dare make a Batgirl/Fatgirl joke." She mumbled under her breath as she managed to grab another bar and get her knee onto the ladder.

She looked over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of someone kneeling on the rooftop watching her.

Male.

She took the ladder very quickly at this realization, making it to the first balcony of the escape. She ran to the side to catch another glimpse of them.

Gone.

Another chuckle from someone who had very obviously ducked behind a portion of the rooftop.

She ran to the next ladder and scaled it easily.

There was one more to go.

A pain very subtly hit her stomach, cramps.

She groaned and forced herself to dash to the ladder, taking great pains to make it to the top of the escape.

Now the tough part, making it to the rooftop from the platform.

She thought for a moment before returning to the ladder, beginning to climb again from her location.

Curious eyes were felt once more.

She struggled to make it to the top wrung and balance herself atop it, thanking god for the beat up tennis shoes having little to no sole left and therefore being very bendy.

She grabbed the edge of the roof and braced herself to hop atop the two rails.

A sharp pain was felt as she made it atop them.

The ladder shook.

She held her breath.

Using all of her strength she very quickly hoisted herself up and immediately rolled on the rooftop in pain.

The stranger was definitely laughing at her.

He stood silhouetted on the rooftop across from her, not fully visible in the moonlight.

She could make out a cape, which was a very helpful feature as almost everyone wore a cape.

With a deep sigh she finally a managed to get to her knees.

The stranger was evidently very confused but amused that she was there, as his head cocked to the side.

She pointed threateningly at him, beginning to stand.

She started to take steps back, the stranger took a second to process this.

When she began to sprint towards him he finally understood her intentions, turning to sprint away from her as she took the leap of faith and landed on the rooftop.

With the new rooftop came a new challenge, as he appeared to vanish entirely upon her landing. She turned to look at him.

The horizon was clear.

Was she crazy?

She began to shake her head as a breeze came in, a piece of material waved in the wind from one of the rooftops.

She had found him.

She reared up and sprinted again, jumping and barely hitting the next rooftop, the stranger skidding just outside of sight as she landed, hoping across another gap.

She groaned in irritation, another cramp hitting her abdomen.

They continued this cycle of her chasing after him and him narrowly avoiding her capture only to watch her again.

"Tim Drake, I know it is you!" She screamed out into the opening air, knowing he could hear her somewhere, anywhere.

A hand popped out of the corner of her vision and made a hand signal of which was typically used to denote 'so and so'.

She made another run to the area, collapsing upon the roof. Her hood flopped over her face, someone next to her attempted to stifle laughter. A black gloved hand was held out to her and she almost reached it when-

 _Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring, brrrrrrrring._

"Seriously, how unprofessional do you have to be to bring your cell phone?" Stephanie replied to the noise, her hand just barely brushing his before her mysterious stranger seemed to vanish.

Except for the noise of the phone ringing somewhere far in the background.

Stephanie struggled to her feet on the rooftop, looking for her mystery man.

She had given up when she heard a familiar voice on the ground away from her.

"Yeah Tam, I'll be heading home soon…"

* * *

Stephanie Brown had somehow managed to get to her rented apartment at the end of the night, falling asleep dead tired at three in the morning.

She was awoken at seven by the return of knocking to her door.

She mumble screamed a response of 'please come back some time later' that came out more like.

"Not people hours."

She had a distinct feeling that the familiar chuckle was made in the distance.

Stephanie Brown finally crawled out of her bed and blearily answer the door.

Tim Drake stood there all too cheery with a box of donuts.

"I figured I should bring you something to eat, you might be too tired to cook."

With a rather sarcastic tone, Stephanie brown asked, "And how did you figure that?"

"I just had a feeling."

* * *

If there was one thing Stephanie Brown hated about Tim Drake it was the way he looked at her.

Obviously full of pity, Tim drake managed to take in all of the parts of her that she did not want to be taken in even the simplest of moments.

Such as, for example, the two of them eating donuts together and her being acutely aware that not only had he taken in her swollen eyes or messed up hair, but also the many sweat stains on her clothes and the purple bruises on every portion of her body.

He didn't say this, but she knew that he noticed.

"How's Tam?" She asked very pointedly after her second donut.

"Gone on business again, she left at six am for New York." He replied unevenly, "We had a little time together before she left."

"Before or after you tormented me?" Stephanie replied, biting into yet another donut.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." How cute, faking innocent. "You are terribly out of shape by the way."

"Thank you." The taste of sweet cream filled her mouth, he must have gotten an assortment.

"Not that you're out of shape shape," Tim was on the defense, "Just out of… our shape."

"Watch what you say, Boy Blunder, Tam's the same size as me." She was not. Tam was three sizes smaller than her.

"You're in good normal person shape." He admitted.

"Just not in running-on-the-rooftops-chasing-some-lunatic-in-red shape?"

"Whoa, I wouldn't call the guy a lunatic," He placed down the chocolate donut he had grabbed before, switching it for a vanilla one out of apology to the blonde. "Just worried about your safety in the most crime-ridden place in the world."

"Thank you for sacrificing the donut you have touched," She rolled her eyes, "But I have to reject it. You see that's contaminated with Tim Drake, and I am very allergic to Tim Drakes." Returning to the subject at hand she countered his statement. "You and everyone else, but you're the only one camped outside of my house. It's almost like I can take care of myself."

He ignored her later statement. "Allergic to Tim Drake? You weren't when you were younger."

"That's the thing about allergies, they take time to develop."

"So that's where we stand right now? You're allergic to me?" He joked.

"Yes, in fact, I am."

"Amazing, a true medical anomaly."

She scowled, reaching for the sacrificial chocolate donut. "How does Tam put up with you?"

"She doesn't." He replied, reaching over to the donut in her hands and retroactively taking back the sacrifice by ripping half of it off.

"Oh wow, even your own fiancée can't stand to spend time with you." She replied.

Tim shrugged, just about to take a bite out of his donut when Stephanie ripped a piece off it.

"Hey!" He exclaimed.

"So what made you decide you had to get married?" She asked him, popping the piece in her mouth.

He snatched her half of the donut out of her hand to her irritation. "It just seemed about time."

"About time?"

There was one donut left in the box now, Stephanie eyed it heavily.

"I mean, I'm not getting any younger, Stephanie, and I'm not going to live forever," Tim replied, pushing the donut box to her.

"So you're getting married? You're like twenty-four." She easily accepted the donut and scooped it up.

He took in her happy smile as she took a bite out of the donut. "I'm in a dangerous line of work."

"True," she admitted, biting her donut. "But that's never put you on the train to commitment before."

"I know of too many almost deaths to wait, I want to start getting to the point of my life when I can enjoy things."

"With someone so like you? That's great, do the two of you enjoy filing taxes together?" She bit a bit too hard into the donut, jam spilled out the front. She unabashedly caught it in her hand and licked her hand.

"We watch a lot of big cat documentaries." He admitted.

She choked on the donut, coughing for a second before spilling into laughter.

* * *

"So what's the plan, boss?" She asked jokingly as she slid onto the couch next to him, hair still soaked from the just finished shower.

"Today? I guess more interviewing, and likely a trip to my home." Tim responded easily.

"Can't," Stephanie countered quickly, "I gotta stay put, I'm waiting for a visit from Cass."

"She can figure out where you are." He argued.

He seemed a bit too insistent.

* * *

 _ **Author's note:**_

Big thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story despite the really long pause between updates and revision of the first few chapters.


	6. Rocket Man

If one thing could be said about Tim's apartment it was that Tim definitely _lived_ there. The place may have been decorated by an interior designer and looked like it was birthed out of an IKEA catalog, but it most definitely was lived in by Tim Drake. There was a pile of shoes by the door, books on the table, and a surprising lack of blankets due to the man's intensely high body temperature.

All signs visible pointed to Tim Drake.

Even now as she watched him he followed the same routine she had known of him for many years, kicking off his shoes and socks in one go and laying on the couch with a sigh before finally fully acknowledging company.

But despite his _engaging_ conversation about the architecture of the apartment that Tam would probably find fascinating, Stephanie Brown was engrossed in the room rather than the man.

It was a shrine to the Tim she had known in that it displayed all the habits that had previously disappeared, but no sign of another human being.

Either Tam lived exactly like Tim Drake or she kept her things far out of sight.

Tim rambled on as she searched for any sign of a woman in the house.

She found none.

* * *

"Mashed potatoes and ribs?"

He asked her as he turned towards the fridge, a few hours of conversation having gone by and much of her day being spent with him.

She vaguely remembered Babs mentioning something about his new diet since living with Tam but pushed it to the back of her mind. Tim was the type of person to always think of to her first, he may have dropped the diet and tried to force her to eat healthy to preserve the breathing memory of his youth.

"Corn too?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course." He rolled his eyes at her. "With butter?"

"A whole stick." She added helpfully.

"I swear to god, I'll never understand how you keep in good shape eating this stuff." He laughed, an actual laugh. It was nice to hear it out of him.

* * *

Her eyebrows scrunched.

"Stomach ache?

"Yeah," She lied, "I had takeout last night."

"Bathroom's down the hall." He responded helpfully

"Thanks."

The walk to his bathroom was interesting enough to keep her mind away from the many questions she had, on the wall were framed headlines detailing just about every major event in Gotham's recent history.

However, when she did reach the bathroom she also reached a moment of brief panic.

Blood.

Of course.

That would explain some of the crampings from last night, she reassured herself. (though a portion of it was likely due to her lack of physique for rooftop chases.)

 _Thank god Tam lives here._

She opened the drawer nearest her and peered around the corner to see if she could find any tampons or pads in the typical place.

None.

Her eyes scanned the whole bathroom.

Not a feminine product in sight.

She pulled open drawer after drawer, looking for anything, a lone tampon.

A woman on a business trip would leave a least a tampon, right?

Nothing.

Why was she freaking out? She knew she shouldn't be freaking out. Tim Drake was hardly a serial killer or something.

But where were the tampons?

How can a man live with his fiancée and have nary a tampon in sight? That was impossible. Was Tam some superhuman who had never menstruated? Did she have an IUD or super pills that prevented any bleeding at all?

This was not normal, Stephanie decided as she fashioned a pad out of toilet paper.

Where were the tampons? Where was the evidence of a woman? He even had _bar soap_.

Not artisanal bar soap.

Ivory bar soap, dollar store bar soap.

She shook her head and flushed away the doubts.

* * *

They ate in utter silence, it wasn't like him.

The food was great, though.

In a way, it reminded her of her mother's cooking every time her father went to jail, overly good to make up for the overwhelming bad.

She looked at him from across the table for a second while he was unaware, his head was downcast.

She stood up.

He cocked his head.

She moved from one end of the table to the other to sit beside him.

* * *

"Does she leave often?" She asked from her position laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling as her hand lightly grazed her stomach. In a previous life, Tim would have been doing such a thing to her, but that life had died and gone away.

"Nowadays, yes." He was telling the truth, she could hear it in his voice.

"You used to need so much attention." She replied, smiling at the ceiling. "How are you even alive right now?"

"I don't know." More truth, he sounded miserable.

Steph sat up to stare at him instead now, his face was stoic as he looked at the wall.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yes." He returned back to form, smiling at her.

"Tim, Tam's not leaving for a business trip is she?" She asked, squinting at the man.

"No, she's not." He admitted.

"What's going on?" She asked him.

"It's nice to have you back." He stood as he changed topics, beginning to walk away from her.

"What's going on?" She demanded.

"Please mind your own business." He retorted, snapping back all too fast.

There it was, dick Tim Drake.

"This is my business, this is my job!"

"This isn't. I don't need some tabloid reporter—"

"I'm your friend!" She exclaimed.

"You're my ex-girlfriend." He deadpanned.

With that Stephanie Brown finally rose to her feet.

"What is going on?" She demanded again, striding towards him with angering steps.

He backed away from her, "It's none of your concern!"

"Where is all of her stuff?"

"That's none of your concern!" His voice was rising in volume, he took a step forward.

"There are no feminine supplies, there's no sign of her ever living here, you have bar soap for—"

"You don't have the right to talk about my bar soa—"

"I do!" She charged forward, shoving her finger in his chest. "What is going on?"

He stiffened his chest. "Go away, Stephanie."

"No!"

"You had no trouble leaving once, now go away again." He stepped closer, her arm was forced into her stomach and the back of her hand lay against her collarbone. "Stay out of my business for another five years."

"Make me." She glared.

"That's it." His statement was in a tone of utter anger and humiliation, he began to reach for her and without thinking, she reacted the only way she could.

She slapped him.

This was a bad idea.

In the history of slaps of Stephanie Brown, things generally worked out in her favor.

Batman accepted being slapped because man, he was kinda a dick.

Her slapping Tim with a brick ended up with her having a cool new boyfriend.

And her accidentally hitting Tim with her fist in a gentle punch slap ended up with her proving to herself that she would not fall victim to the charms of Tim Drake.

Maybe he just had some sort of weird sexual thing for being slapped, but Tim's next reaction was unexpected.

He gathered her in his arms and forced his mouth onto hers.

And for a second everything was bliss.

Until Stephanie Brown realized what was going on.

The second she realized what was going on knee connected with genitals and she was dropped on the floor as he howled in pain.

Tim dropped to his knees in front of her and she began to scream collaboratively with him.

She quickly grabbed the nearest book and held it out between the two of them as Tim began to regain his composure.

He reached a weakened hand out to her and she screamed and fended it off with 'The Art of Man'. Accidentally releasing it and causing it to slam into his face, she screamed louder and reached for the nearest available object to put between the two of them.

A cushion.

"Stephanie please, I—"

"What is wrong with you?!" She yelled at the top of her lungs, backing into the bottom of the chair with her hand cushion shield.

"I can explain!"

"Are you crazy now?!" She asked, shoving the cushion of protection in front of her face. "Did you kill her?!"

"I did not kill her." He deadpanned.

"Where is she?!"

"I don't really know yet!" He attempted to reach for one of her wrists.

"You're engaged!" She smacked his hand away.

"I don't technically know about that right now!" He admitted. "I am sorry about that, though, I can explain, or try to—"

"Does being hit _sexually_ excite you?!" She was uncomfortable now, the most uncomfortable she had ever been in her life.

"Ok, no, I—"

"Is it the harder the better, is that what happened with the brick, oh god—"

"Steph."

"Don't Steph me." She was beginning to calm down, her breath was even once more.

"Let's just sit." He suggested, slowly getting up but keeping both of his hands in the air like a man caught by the police.

He sat down on his loveseat couch, she watched him tentatively and eventually moved up to sit on the chair.

* * *

"Okay, so here is the full story, no lies or anything." He began, having had to stall the story slightly. He had grabbed the top sheet for Stephanie, placing it on the ground in front of her and sitting back in his seat to watch her tentatively pick it up and wrap it around herself.

"No lies?" She asked. "How do you think I'll believe that?"

He gave her a look of earnestly.

She figured someone must tell the truth if they look so desperate.

"Tam left." He admitted.

He was obviously expecting a bigger reaction than Stephanie's slow nod.

"It's not you being here, it's not any of that. We'd talked about it before and came to the conclusion it might be best for her to go to New York for a while and just… The two of us be separated before the wedding. To make sure this is what she wants-"

"Why?" Stephanie squinted, not fully comprehending.

"I'm asking a lot and she's not quite willing to give-"

"What are you asking?"

He more through her than at her, "You know what I'm asking."

"Kinky slapping sex?" She did not know what he was asking.

He snorted, "No."

"You seem really into slapping."

"I'm not into slapping." He insisted.

She tightened the sheet around her instead of responding.

He wished for a moment he had bought actual blankets instead of insisting they were unnecessary.

"I'm asking her to marry the idea of my superhero status as well."

Stephanie cocked her head.

"It's a lot for someone to take in and actually think about Stephanie," He elaborated. "It's different when they're a civilian. They aren't used to the idea of waiting at home not knowing if you're coming home—"

"Like my mother." Stephanie interrupted. "It was hard for her."

"Kind of. Tam doesn't want that, it's too much." He shrugged. "I asked her to take some time to think about it. She feels like she didn't think it through well, the acception of the engagement."

"So she's breaking up with you." Stephanie supplied.

"She might come back. I'm not calling it off."

For all his practicalities this struck Stephanie as odd. "Why? You're never one to wait on uncertainties."

"Being completely honest?" His eyebrow raised slightly, "It keeps you here, it gives people hope, and I really want to prove that people like us do get a happy ending."

"Like you." She corrected. "Why is it so important that I'm here?"

"You never told anyone you were leaving." He said it simply enough.

"Why kiss me?" She changed the topic.

"It doesn't mean anything," he replied quickly, "Heat of the moment."


	7. Tiny Dancer

She didn't stay long after what was dubbed, 'the incident'.

Tim being himself decided to walk her home, much to her discomfort.

They stood outside of her apartment door, the white escape hatch being a mere second away from her.

They held each other's eye contact for far too long, unsure of the proper way to say goodbye following what had just occurred.

"Thank you for coming." Tim helpfully filled the dead air.

She nodded.

He seemed unsure of what to do.

Deciding it was probably a good way to go, she wrapped her arms around the man's torso. This created the most awkward hug in Stephanie's life, and evidently, Tim's as she felt him tightened under her arms hold.

"I'm sorry for your loss." She supplemented and immediately regretted saying upon backing away from him.

"She's not dead."

"But she is gone!" She contested.

"Thanks for the reminder."

"Always welcome," She provided an overly confident smile.

He turned to leave her before thinking for a second. "And Steph?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone about Tam."

* * *

Stephanie had barely a moment to think about the implications of what Tim had done before she opened her door to an apartment with all the lights on.

"You're home late." The voice of Cassandra Cain called out from across the room.

She was perched in her living room, dressed in her normal clothes. While she stood out against the all black couch, the smile on her face seemed to blend in with her features.

It was nice to see things like this were becoming more normal for Cass, she deserved to be happy.

"Out late with Tim?" Cass questioned, patting the spot next to her for Stephanie to sit.

Stephanie ignored this invitation and instead barreled into her, grabbing the smaller woman in a hug.

He younger woman smacked her back lightly several times in an attempt to make her drop her.

"Cass!"

"Stephanie." Cassandra Cain had an uncanny ability to deadpan during any emotional moment.

"Steph." She corrected her, bouncing onto the seat next to her.

"What in the world are you doing these days?"

* * *

The two of them sat on the couch, side by side, laughing as they described their lives to each other. They didn't live lives either one could understand very well but managed to keep the air full of conversation anyway.

There was something about being around her best friend that made Stephanie feel like a younger woman once more.

It as with Cass's curiosity that the two of them finally hit a silence.

The question to see Stephanie's stretch marks.

There was a sadness in the air as Cass's fingers traced over the lightened raised skin on Stephanie's stomach, finding it had almost vanished entirely.

"It's amazing," Cass decided.

Stephanie smiled grimly, trying to lighten the situation. "A pregnant superhero, I was pretty funny— "

"You did everything no one else managed to," Cassandra stated. "You were one of us, but you've gotten everything we never will."

The air felt heavy with silence.

"It's not that you couldn't."

Cass cast Stephanie a solemn smile as she moved to finally cover her exposed stretchmarks. "Stephanie, I wouldn't be able to."

"You could, I know you could." Stephanie continued, "Assassin or whatever you were, you could have a normal life."

"I'd miss it too much," Cass said with a sort of finality.

Ah.

Fair.

Somedays she missed this life too.

"No, you wouldn't, it's easy." Stephanie lied.

"This life is where my friends and family are, Stephanie." Cass clarified, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's where my memories are, I've had good times in this life."

Steph found herself unconsciously pulling her knees to her chin. "I had good times too, but look at me." Her voice faltered. "I'm doing great."

Sensing trouble brewing underneath the skin, Cass changed her topic. "Do you ever miss us?"

Cass's social graces need some work, to say the least.

"Yeah," Steph admitted. She felt like she was going to throw up.

"What do you miss?"

"Everything." Tears threatened to well up.

Cass looked to her, catching a glimpse of her beginning to cry.

Never one for hugging, Cass grabbed her hand.

"I'm sorry." Steph tried to shake the strange feeling overcoming her. "I'm sorry for this."

"Do you ever think about going bac—"

"No." Stephanie lied, obviously doing so as sobs began to rack her body.

"Stephanie…" Cass gave in, finally wrapping her arms around the girl.

"Mentally there's just a lot going on in my head," Stephanie admitted once more.

"Like?"

"I can't tell you, I just promised like four hours ago." Stephanie shook her head. "I can't just throw away a secret in four hours."

She pulled away from Stephanie now, looking at her with seriousness. "Do you want me to call Ti—"

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"I'm fine." It came out this time as a wail.

* * *

"Welcome back to Wayne manor Miss Cain," Alfred's voice filled the hallway as they shuffled in through one of the back entrances. "And friend." The older man tried to make out who was behind her.

A familiar blonde head came into shape.

"Ah, Miss Brown, we've been wondering when we would see you."

Cass nodded a greeting at Alfred, trying to make it more so into the house than into one of the wings. Stephanie Brown lingered for a bit longer than her, pausing to smile blearily at Alfred.

The man shook his head to himself, following the girls through the many winding halls of Wayne Manor. "I must warn you, Maser Todd is present today-."

Cass scoffed, Stephanie made a noncommittal noise.

"He's back from another one of his spats, 'unknown' to Master Wayne."

"Is this a common thing?" Stephanie asked him over her shoulder as Cass took them down what seemed like yet another pointless turn.

"Monthly." Answered Alfred. "I must admit, I was beginning to believe I would never see you again, Miss Brown."

"I was beginning to think the same," Stephanie replied as Cassandra took another hard turn and ended up in the secondary kitchen.

At least, what Stephanie knew as the secondary kitchen. The main kitchen, as she was convinced, would be the larger kitchen that was constantly filled with the many hired help of Wayne manor.

The secondary kitchen was more of the 'desperately starving and unable to wait for five-star cooking to be presented' kitchen.

Of course, in the center was a shirtless Jason Todd drinking milk out of the carton.

All three entrants held the same displeased expression.

"What?" He asked before returning to finish the cartoon. "Never seen a man drink milk, Blondie?"

Cassandra shook her head and grabbed Stephanie's hand, leading her further into the room to the displeasure of Jason. Alfred stayed to chide the man.

In their walk they hit another person, struggling to make it through the hall with his massive shoulders blocking the way, a big book obscuring his face until he passed by Stephanie.

"Wait was that-?"

"Damian," Cassandra replied.

"Try to keep fatgirl away from the kitchen," His monotoned voice sounded from the end of the hallway.

Cassandra's hand tightened grip on Stephanie's arm, leading her through yet another room.

The foyer, Dick was sleeping on the couch in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"His home is on the other side of town now, he spends some nights here out of convenience." Cassandra supplemented.

Stephanie managed to ruffle his hair for a second before passing out of the room, his snoring turning into a strange choke breathing.

Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw him dart up.

Stephanie's laugh carried down the hallway.

* * *

They had finally reached it, deep within the labyrinth know as Wayne manor.

"A gym? You took me all the way to Wayne Manor for a gym?" Stephanie questioned. "Cass, I know I'm getting fat but-."

She could understand wanting to go to this gym, however, as it was the state of the art health center that Stephanie and everyone worth their salt had been trained it.

But still.

What a horrible reminder of her muffin top.

"Adrenaline, it'll give you a rush to just run around here." Cass shrugged. "I figured it might help a little."

Stephanie looked from a springboard back to Cass.

Then from a bar back to Cass.

From a dummy back to Cass.

"I am not fit enough to use any of these."

"But you're going to."

"Is this what you do when you're sad? Exercise? Because let me tell you, I visit my friends Ben and Jerry—"

"It's either this or you going out in the suit." Cass deadpanned. "What do you want?"

She turned back to shoot a disgusted face at Cass only to see her wrapping her hands across the room.

Oh god no.

Lord almighty, please no.

Cassandra made eye contact with her.

"Come on, it'll do you good."

No no no.

"Either the equipment or you're dealing with me."

"I want to go back to room number one," Stephanie attempted to joke, "The one with the shirtless guy."

Cass shook her head at her, smirking.

Stephanie hardly knew what was coming when Cass charged at her, causing the blonde to scream in slight fear.

She stuck out her arm and managed to clothesline Cass, who easily recovered and ducked to kick her legs out from under her.

Stephanie landed on the ground with a resounding thud.

Cass held out her hand to her in a moment of friendship, Stephanie took it.

She pushed the blonde back with a combination of her hand and her knee and pinned her to the floor.

Stephanie shrieked in pain.

"Come on."

What a bitch.

Stephanie managed to shove her head in Cassandra's abdomen and daze her.

She used this advantage to throw her off.

Cassandra grabbed her arm as Stephanie tried to roll back to her feet.

* * *

The fight only lasted for an hour before Cassandra's unseen transmitter went off.

She sent her home with Alfred, saying rather nonchalantly.

"Something big's going on downtown."


	8. There is a Light That Never Goes Out

There is a blend of simultaneously fear and simultaneous relief at the idea of something happening downtown when you are Stephanie Brown.

In the relief, there's the fact that you nor any family live in the most absolute downest of towns, and therefore your mother was likely okay. The slight comfort in the fact that you were safe and wouldn't be fighting tooth and nail for your life tonight.

And then there's the fear.

Because everyone you know outside of family is going downtown tonight, and they sent you off to your apartment with the butler.

Then the butler mumbled something about needing to be home to tend to the wounded.

And you ended up alone.

With no chance of knowing what's going on or who is hurt.

And you're not a hero anymore, at least not in shape at this point.

So there's no chance of you helping.

So you stay in your apartment and stand in front of the window like a robot watching smoke rise in the distance and hearing screams break through your windows.

You stand there and you wonder if tonight is the night someone will die.

* * *

The screams carried on for hours, no news station was able to report accurately through the thick clouds of smoke.

The people who came out at the edge were in shock.

The one news station who had journeyed into the cloud had not yet come out.

Scarecrow.

Scarecrow and fear gas placed all over downtown Gotham.

Having finally sat on her couch around 2 am, Stephanie stared at the television with the same confusion as those reporting.

How he escaped the asylum no one knew.

Firemen poured into the center of downtown with masks secured, Stephanie thought the urge to scream as flashes of black were seen on the rooftops in the shot.

And then just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

The smoke dispersed.

News teams screamed, pointing to the destroyed buildings in the distance.

Scarecrow was shoved in a police van in the background.

Everyone was caught on camera except Tim.

Everyone was in horrible states but visible.

Helping each other out of the battlefield.

She could have screamed.

A crash sounded from her bedroom and she did scream.

* * *

Tim Drake, currently positioned upon her bedroom floor had looked worse in his life, but Stephanie Brown had not been present in those moments of his life.

Aside from the injuries resulting from him sort of just throwing himself at her window instead of his normal slick entrance, he had a burn and several cuts up the right side of his body, a portion of his mask melted away and taking the obvious brunt of whatever had burnt the side of his body.

First degree burns, she thanked god there wouldn't be scars.

He had so many other people to go to, she wondered for a second why he went there.

She then decided it was entirely unimportant while he was bleeding out on her floor.

She finally acknowledged the hand reaching limply for her.

Upon tossing It over her shoulder she finally got a better look at his face.

His eyes were swollen.

He looked like shit.

She took the majority of his weight until she had led him to the bed, pushing him down to sitting position on top of it.

"Take off your clothes." She demanded.

He hesitated before beginning to remove the suit but every movement was laborious.

She swallowed her pride and reached for his clothes, beginning to help him undress. He grunted in pain as she peeled the material away from the injured skin with a sickening sound.

She managed to get the top of his clothes off, pushing his back to the bed despite his voice attempting to make a noise that vaguely sounded like her name.

She lifted up his leg and peeled the bottom portion of his costume from his legs, allowing his underwear to remain.

Next, she reached up and peeled the cowl from his face.

If he had enough blood left or wasn't severely burnt he could have been blushing.

She didn't care.

She began the next step, wrapping his arm around her shoulder again and helping him up.

"Steph." His raspy voice managed.

"Hold on, I got you." She replied, leading him across the hall and into her bathroom.

Here she lowered him onto her bathmat, wincing as the white fabric began to be covered in yellow and red stains. She started the tub as he tried again to reach for her.

"I have to change." She informed him. "Give me a second."

She stood in front of her closet for only a second before discarding her pants and throwing a pair of shorts on. Next, she undid her bra, not wanting to bear the idea of cold water sticking to the thick fabric around her breasts. She threw her bra and shirt off in a single motion, grabbing an oversized t-shirt.

Thinking about it for a moment she tried to pick a pair of pajama pants that would fit him, she didn't want him to spend the day in wet boxers after his bath.

She grabbed a pair he had 'lent' her in high school.

Returning to the bathroom she saw that he had fallen onto his burnt side, but thankfully not moved aside from that. He withered in pain on her bathmat as she turned the faucet off, having filled the tub enough.

Next, she lifted him up once more, helping him find a way to the bathroom. He collapsed all at once into the water.

She quickly grabbed his chin to stop his head from lulling into the water.

He forced a pale hand to touch her cheek, barely there.

A solemn smile, she released his chin to remove his hand from her face.

"Steph." He tried again. The pain had subsided slightly from the cool water, but Stephanie nervously watched as it turned a murky red brown in front of her eyes. "Steph, I'm okay." His voice was so hoarse.

"Shh."

"I came to say I'm okay." He stated.

Stephanie ignored him as she grabbed his nose and tilted his head back. He scrunched his face from the pain. She used another hand to dip a plastic cup from a fast food restaurant that was already on the side of the tub into the water.

She poured the water over his face, watching as brown water cascaded off of him.

She repeated this motion again before assessing the situation.

there was no way to scrub the dirt off of him without causing him pain.

She shook her head, dunking the cup under water and pouring it over his shoulder.

His breath sounded labored.

"This is nice." She joked halfheartedly. "Isn't it?"

"This is terrible." He sounded like he smoked eight packs of cigarettes in one go. "I didn't come here for medical care."

"Then go to someone else before you come to me looking the way you do." She shook her head. "You look like you've been in the sun for hours, then somehow managed to get attacked by a wolverine."

"Citizens under the effects of fear gas." He corrected her. "And fire, a lot of fire."

"Are you the worst off?"

"Yes." He admitted.

"So you disappeared right away." She shook her head, pouring another cup over his back as he scrunched up his face.

"For your sake, yes." His back muscles tensed, he hit a word too hard and inhaled awkwardly. "I didn't want you left in the dark. Tam doesn't like when things like this happen."

"Because she has to clean you up?" Stephanie joked.

"Alfred does, she doesn't want to see it."

"Oh." She shook her head, rubbing a large portion of melted rubber stuck to him gently with her hand.

His frown was more pronounce as she made sure to avoid eye contact.

"I think you're good, want help standing again?"

"I think I'll be okay, some of the pain has subsided." Yet when he started to get up it was like watching an old man rising from the floor.

Slow and painful.

She gritted her teeth as he managed to step out of her tub with a long groan.

The air immediately hit his burns against, initiating the pain once more.

Stephanie flew to her cupboard, thanking god she had two rolls of medicinal wrap.

* * *

She left him alone after wrapping him to allow him to change into his pajamas, waiting outside of the bathroom door in case anything were to happen.

It took him about twenty minutes to put on a pair of pants.

When he opened the door she was unsurprised to see all of his ankles and half of his legs.

He had gotten a lot taller since they were kids.

He grunted upon seeing her, looking like some sort of mummy going through a growth spurt with the amount of his torso covered in bandages.

Almost immediately he made a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" Steph called from the hallway.

"Home." He responded, beginning to open the door.

"Half naked and almost dead?" A rhetorical question, "You're not going home."

"I am going home," he informed her. "I go home like this all the time."

"Yeah, but are you normally alone?" She asked him as he began to walk out of the door, tailing him closely. "You really shouldn't be alone right now. You could have serious complications."

"I highly doubt you'll be able to sense those complications with me sleeping on your couch." He informed her as he began to walk down the hall of her apartment building.

"In my bed then, I don't care, you're not going home." She informed him, charging after him, and grabbing his wrist.

He shot her a confused look as she yanked it and prompted a yelp of pain from him.

"Stephanie, it's okay, I've gone home alone in a worse state."

She wouldn't budge, holding his wrist still. "You don't go home like this when Stephanie Brown is in town." She informed him.

In the history of Tim Drake, there were many things that could not be done.

Saying no to Stephanie Brown and meaning it with all of his heart was one of them.

She looked at him.

Just the way she looked at him, the only way Stephanie ever really looked at him in the early days of their relationship, the good days. The days when it really was a relationship.

When Tam looked at him there was a multitude of different ways to do so; Sexy, fearful, angry, happy, devoted.

For the longest time, all of those paled in comparison to the look of the original Stephanie Brown.

Confident, brave, giving; The only look she ever had for him.

That was the look she gave him now.

His breath lightened and his attempts to pull away faded.

He gave in, for the sake of a memory.

She looked at him with those eyes and he just nodded, like he wasn't truly there.

* * *

They started back to back, but the second she fell to sleep he found himself rolling to stare at her back.

He realized why this was a bad idea as the burning pain hit him once more, he flipped back onto his back.

Out of the corner of his eye, she was still visible, peacefully sleeping.

And here he was, being pathetic and looking at her state of peace in her bed.

Still in love with Tam but feeling the crushing weight of Stephanie Brown on his heart.

He grimaced at himself from his back as she began to stir beside him, turning to face him on her side.

Her eyes were still firmly shut.

 _She's a troublemaker_ , he told himself.

Her hand reached for something, anything to hold.

 _An absolute troublemaker_ , he swore to himself.

Her hand fell on his burnt flesh.

He felt like screaming in pain but couldn't bring himself to.

She adjusted herself closer to him, half of her body on top of his burns.

 _How fitting._

But he couldn't move her.

His mind screamed to, his skin screamed to, but in that moment Stephanie was an entity made of steel and lead; too heavy to be moved away from him.

But then he saw her face.

And just couldn't even think of it anymore.

"Goodnight, Steph." He sighed in defeat.

He needed to stay away from Stephanie Brown.


	9. You're so Vain

"I've concluded something," Admitted Stephanie as she poked a waffle in her waffle iron, sighing as she found it undercooked. "I need to date."

"Why do you feel the need to tell me this?" Rang the words of Barbara Gordon through the tinny speaker of her phone.

"Because Cass doesn't care about my love life that much", Stephanie grimaced to herself as she removed the waffle from the cooker anyway and found the other side to be burnt. "And you have already attempted to talk to me about it."

"I was trying to—" Barbara sighed, giving up on explaining what she was trying to do. It could be starting a goat farm for all Stephanie knew, Barbara decided to continue the previous conversation. "And how did you come to this grand conclusion that you need to return to the dating pool, Stephanie Brown?" Barbara's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I looked at Tim," Stephanie replied, throwing away the waffle before pouring another. "All roughed up with no one to take care of him, and you know what I thought? If I don't get out and do something this is going to be it, the rest of my life chasing after some guy in a gimp suit's hood that can't take care of himself."

"Fair."

"And you know, I don't want that." Stephanie continued. "I want someone better, someone who I don't have to worry about." She closed the waffle iron. "I want someone who fully believes in my abilities but can also take care of himself."

"Tim can take care of himself." Barbara pointed out, unhelpfully.

"Yeah, but, he still needs someone at the end of the day and I don't need anyone." Actual adult, Stephanie Brown.

The audible snort from Bab's line did not deter the blonde.

"I'm serious, I'm an adult now." The waffle iron started to smoke.

"An adult you may be, but independent you are not." A flurry of typing was heard in the background of Barbara's call. "Stephanie Brown, I've known you for long enough to state that you and Tim will continue this dance for the rest of your lives."

"Except we won't." Stephanie turned to open the waffle iron quickly. Thank god it was just crispy. One waffle for burnboy, zero for Steph so far. "Because I am stopping the music. I'm taking the batteries out of the radio."

"I doubt that knowing you Tim is in that apartment as we speak." Barbara sighed.

"He's not." She was lying. He was still in her bed and withering in pain from his burns, she knew because she woke up an inch from his face.

Which just strengthened the resolve to find someone new.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." She changed the topic quickly. "Anyway, I downloaded Tinder."

"Oh no." Several clicking noises.

Stephanie poured another waffle. "Mhmm, I have five dates tonight alone."

"I have never heard such a horrible idea."

Stephanie hummed to herself as she watched the iron begin to cook the waffle.

"Stephanie, you do realize you are attempting tinder dates in the crime capital of the world?" A slight chuckle was heard in the background, it appeared that Barbara had recently acquired company. There was a muffled greeting.

"Barbara please," Stephanie laughed, finally pulling out a perfectly cooked waffle. A sign from the gods. "I'm a former superhero." The words somehow stung.

"Even worse."

* * *

"There's frozen peas in the fridge if you get hungry." Stephanie joked from the bathroom, washing off yet another failed attempt at makeup.

Who knew applying even foundation could be such a chore?

"I honestly want to leave your apartment with every fiber of my being." Complained Tim from her couch, laying hopelessly there with his peeling skin.

"Not my fault you decided to go here instead of home." She replied, pouring the foundation onto her hand. "If you had been smart you would have realized come daylight that you wouldn't be able to come home until it was dark out, the Bear."

"I'm sorry that I had to have the human decency to tell you everyone was okay."

"You look like an undercooked chicken breast dumped in cornflakes." She pointed out.

"What if I don't get out before one of your many suitors arrives?"

"Easy, you're my roommate who has eczema." Stephanie slapped the foundation onto her face using her hands, smearing it all around with her palms. Good, full coverage.

Tim shook his head, calling back to her. " Don't wear heels, you're going to do a lot of running tonight."

"Ha ha, so funny." She began trying to apply eyeliner lightly.

Her hand slipped.

Thick eyeliner it would be.

"I'm serious, there's a reason we're called the—"

"Crime capital of the world." Damn, finishing Tim's sentences made her screw up her eye. Time to wash her face and start again.

"You have a much better chance of finding love in Metropolis, I don't understand why you're so determined to date while you're in Gotham." He reached for the remote, wincing in pain.

"I have a good feeling about this." She began her smearing routine again, feeling the texture of Covergirl fill her pores. "Like whatever happens, I'm just going to go with it."

"Coincidentally, I have a very bad feeling." He dropped the remote, irritated that this meant he had to move his charred flesh more.

"You give me bad feelings." If she slaps the foundation the coverage looks far different.

"You make my skin peel."

Stephanie snorted at the wrong moment and managed to get the whole pot of liquid eyeliner all over her chin.

This looked even worse.

She made a rather audible groan.

"Do you need help?"

"No," She replied rather rushed, "I can do this, I used to do makeup all the time."

Tim rolled his eyes, stretching as he stood up from the couch. The noises his skin made as it crackled from being stretched disturbed him greatly.

He bared the walk of the hallway, every step like shards of glass being shoved into his body. She stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom, directly beside the door.

Her face was rather screwed up in an expression of frustration as she attempted to rub all the make-up off of her face. She wore a t-shirt that he knew very well was from a pickle factory, one of her favorites from high school.

Beside himself, he smiled, stepping forward and appearing in the mirror behind her. She glared up at him with her towel to her face, stained orange with too many layers of foundation.

He shook his head and attempted to grab the towel from her hand.

She huffed at him and turned around.

"If it means anything," He began, "I don't think—"

"Shut up Tim, you look like the Phantom of the Opera."

* * *

"So you—" Stephanie tried to find an explanation for his obsession.

"I just really like them, I'm not sure why." The man confessed.

"But like—"

"Listen if this is too weird for you—" He was beginning to get irritated with the blonde.

"I'm just not quite getting it.." She admitted to him, beginning to casually load back up her purse. This date was a definite no.

"It's good work, really." He definitely was irritated.

"But that's all you do all day?"

"Yes, all I do all day is sell them, it's not that hard of a concept."

She was loaded up and ready to go. "But what are they about? I mean what can you sell comics about in a city dominated by heroes?"

"Superheroes." He stated blankly.

"Okay, but there are people here who—You know what, just fuck it." She shook her head, standing. "It was great to meet you, but I'm leaving." So much for just going with whatever the night gave her.

* * *

She felt she could love him when he saw her across the way and his smile lit up his handsome face. A chiseled jaw, soft facial hair, and a very well defined chest. She could see tufts of his chest hair poking underneath his collar.

He was almost too perfect.

Then she saw his t-shirt had a name tag still on it reading Dave.

And matched that of the personnel of those around her.

And she looked down.

And it blinked.

Dear god a parole bracelet.

She turned on her heel and quickly began to walk away.

* * *

One owned a failing comic shop.

One did not own anything.

One had a parole bracelet.

And the other one had to cancel for AA.

But five.

Number five, Nigel.

Well, he did not show up.

At all.

What a great way to start her dating experience.

Up until he sat across from her she was just another lonely girl sitting in a bar in a pickle factory t-shirt. Sure, she had many appetizers to fill the feeling of being a disappointment to society.

But then he sat across from her and she felt like there was no way she could really be a disappointment.

"Blondie." His voice was slick like vodka.

Which Stephanie knows from experience goes down like shards of glass.

"Jason." She said, her voice lacking all pleasantries.

"How's my little brother holding up?" He smiled too large, too fake.

She sighed and shook her head, packing once more to leave again.

He rolled his eyes at her, standing up to leave at the same time as her.

"You really don't want to go home this early and face Tim, do you?" He asked, somehow managing to keep pace with her even as she changed into the stride that she thought clearly communicated not to talk to her.

The don't talk walk.

"It's better than spending time with the guy who looks like Pepe Le Pew." She responded, charging her way out of the door.

"Ouch, that hurts." A slight laugh, he kept beside her steadily no matter how fast she moved. "But I guess you could say I'm hardly anemic."

What?

"What?" She stopped.

"Iron deficient-"

"I know what anemia is, dumbass—"

"It's funny because I was hit with a crowbar." He shrugged. "A rusty iron crowbar."

"Oh." She shook her head and continued walking, albeit slightly slower.

"Got you to stop and think, though." A smirk. "So what are you doing tonight?"

She cast him a confused look, picking up the pace again. "Going home to spend the night with Tim until enough dark has fallen for him to leave my house."

"Wrong." He verbally whipped the red pen out on her.

"How so?" She asked quizzingly.

"You are I are going out—"

"I'm really not interested in the Boy Who Died." Stephanie adjusted her purse strap.

"You didn't let me finish." There was mild irritation in his voice. "You and I are going out on patrol."

"You really are crazy. That crowbar scattered your brains, skunk head." She replied evenly. "Do it on your own."

"Would but can't." He hit her lightly with his shoulder. "Serious business is going to be going down tonight-"

"Get a partner." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm trying." He stated. "I was just thinking to myself that it's unfortunate that all my regulars are out of town, and lo and behold! A blonde comes into view in my normal drinking hole."

"You normally drink at the Smog and Smug Bar?"

"On the days when they have deals on drinks, sure." His hand lightly gripped her wrist. "That's beside the point."

"The point is?"

"I'm offering you a night of fun, of joy, of adventures."

"God no." She wrenched her wrist out of his grip. "Not with you."

"Cassandra said you missed it." He threw out Cass's name, hoping to get something out of the blonde.

"That's none of your business." She was plain about it, suddenly cutting to take a sharp turn into an alley that Jason knew led into a maze of others.

He placed his hand on her shoulder to avoid losing her but found her tensing her legs and getting ready to run. "I wouldn't tell anyone if it helps."

"It doesn't."

"I'll pay for drinks." He suggested.

While not an alcoholic Stephanie found herself slowing.

A quotation from herself worriedly flew into her.

She turned to face him with her sudden change of heart.

"-You know what? Whatever happens, I'm just going to go with it."

* * *

Tim was still laying on the couch watching meaningless tv when she came home, just as she figured. He had spent almost the whole day in her apartment lounging around in his too small pajama pants with his underwear shoved into the pocket.

She grimaced at the thought when he finally noticed that she had come home.

He nodded, seemingly to himself, and finally sat up for the day.

"How were the dates?"

"Bad." Simple enough, truthful enough.

"How bad?"

"Bad bad. How was the tv?"

"I watched Jerry Springer for five hours." Something about his voice gave her the feeling that this was not a pleasing experience.

"It was dark about three hours ago you know—"

"I was waiting for you." He admitted. She almost felt a tiny bit sorry, but she had expected that response. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I somehow dodged the axe murdering portion of Tinder."

"It's very hard to murder someone with an axe I've heard." There was a slight grin on his face as he said it, he started to stand.

She nodded at him, swallowing hard for a reason she wasn't entirely sure of.

"Well, I think it's about time I went home." He nodded to himself as well, moving towards the door.

She nodded to him and opened the door. He held her gaze for a moment as he left, offering a slight smile to her as she began to close the door.

She returned the smile, feeling a light-heartedness developing inside herself.


	10. Sweet Child of Mine

When she finally managed to get the nylon based purple fabric over her legs the first thing that she notices is that the texture is not dissimilar to bagged cottage cheese. Every single inch of her body is packed like a sausage into the Spoiler costume and she is almost certain that she was not that small in high school.

I mean, she was pregnant at one point for god's sake, there's no way that she is bigger now.

Staring at herself in the mirror she shakes her head at herself, taking every inch of her face and sighing at the acknowledgment that the test of time has begun to change many aspects of her appearance.

She pulled the mask over her face and says goodbye to Stephanie Brown for one night, just one night.

* * *

"You brought me here for a drug deal." Stephanie's voice cut the air, her shoulder shoving into Jason's to taunt him about the regularity of drug deals in Gotham.

"Multiple drug deals, at least five." He retorted, returning her shouldering.

The two kneeled to peak just over the edge of the roof, close enough together that their combined body heat made the back of Stephanie's neck thick with sweat.

"Okay but drug deals in Gotham are as normal as an ice-cream truck in summer." Stephanie retorted.

"They are slowly retiring ice cream trucks, just so you know, it's way more cost effective for parents to buy ice cream from the store so… I guess they, like your argument, could be considered redundant."

Stephanie snorted, rolling back from her heels to plop on her butt. "It's crack, that's like the shitty Halloween candy of drugs."

"But what is it cut with?" He offered her a line. "You gotta remember, it's hard to find a crack dealer who is selling one hundred percent crack."

"Chalkboard dust, pixie sticks, sugar, baking soda. Depends on how dumb the customer is."

"Tim would tell you that none of those things should be ingested."

His reply earned him the pleasure of watching Stephanie try to hold back a rather large laugh.

When she could finally squeeze it out between snorts she asked, "And you?"

"Well I already chase my crack with chalk dust so, it's just a normal Friday night in the life of the Red Hood."

Her resulting laugh ended up with the drug dealer's head turning up to the rooftop and him nervously shoving his sold wares into the customer's pocket.

He began to rush the transaction so he could leave.

Jason grabbed Stephanie's hand and pulled her to the edge again.

"I think we need to just do it, now preferably."

She nodded to him, shoving her fist into her mouth to save herself from another laugh. Jason shook his head at her and with a presumed smile leaped from the roof to the fire escape and gestured for her to do the same.

Following suit, Stephanie leaped from the rooftop to the fire escape, landing on her feet perfectly. She immediately regretted this choice as the sharp pain shot up her knees, Jason jerked his head back to the drug dealer who seemed to be arguing about payment.

"You think you'll be able to keep up?" He asked as she groaned in pain.

She nodded to him and he immediately hopped over the guardrails of the fire escape into the night.

Her eyes widened at the height of the drop, at least two stories and she considered taking the stairs.

By then he would be completely out of sight.

She took in a nervous breath and climbed onto the guardrail, staring at the darkness below her.

Would it kill Gotham to buy more street lights?

She gripped her cape until her fingernails dug through her gloves into her palm, all the air seemed to leave her.

One second a safety rail was there to ground her to her normal life, the next second the air was there to aid in her flight.

Everything moved quickly and slowly at the same time, her body personally feeling like it remained in the air for decades but the wind feeling like the breeze of a hurricane.

She clenched her eyes shut without realizing it and fell to the ground on her shoulder, recovering quickly from the fall.

Her throat burned with the fire from the air that dived into her lungs, but her mind was burning with a rush of pride.

She remembered for a moment why she did it in the first place, the appeal beyond strong moral obligations that allowed her to blind herself to the potential emotional trauma that her mother would endure. She turned to Jason with a blind smile hidden by her black mask, having shaky legs like she donned when she was younger.

He stood by the garbage bins, she convinced herself that if she could see it there would be a smile returning hers in secret.

She walked beside him as he strode with confidence towards the drug dealer, the man unaware of their presence.

Her mind was elsewhere as Jason grabbed the man who was walking away from his clientele.

His fist connected with the man's face as he caught him unaware.

* * *

She's twenty-one again, barely able to see through her swollen eyes. There's no feeling but the hollowness in her lungs and all she can see of herself is stained bandages covering every portion of her body.

Her mother sits beside the hospital bed, her eyes cast down at a crossword.

She licked her lips and tried to will a sound out of her body, an empty wind escaping her lips.

Her mother's eyes darted up from the crossword, widening as they made contact with Stephanie again.

* * *

Jason accidentally shoves the man over to her; her hand connects with the man's cheek.

Her eyes become more alert as she feels the pain in her hand like she had punched a glass coffee table.

The man struggles to get away, without a thought she struggles to pin him down with her forearm as he attempts to pull at her mask and somehow throw her off pace.

She struggles and pulls his arms above his head.

* * *

Her mother chokes down sobs as she reaches for her, the bandaged child who somehow survived the collapse of a building.

She pulls her deep into her arms and Stephanie can hear the deep inhale of her mother, unknowing of the women's attempts to memorize every aspect of the child she had thought she'd lost.

She tried to find the words to reassure her mother, anything to tell her that she was still alive, that she was sorry.

Her mother pulls away finally, staring at her daughter's face like an astronomer trying to memorize the patterns of stars. Thick tears cascaded down Krystal Brown's face as she pulled her daughter's forehead to her lips and left a wet kiss. She gave the girl a good squeeze before finally releasing her.

"Jesus," her mother manages to struggle out of her mouth. She smiles at her child, cradling Stephanie's cheek tenderly in her hand.

Stephanie offers up a weak smile upon her chapped and cracked lips.

Overcome with emotion once more, Krystal gathers her up in her arms and grips her like a sailor lost at sea grips a life vest. "I thought you were done, I thought you were gone…"

"Mom…" Stephanie wheezed out.

"I don't know what I would do without you, I can't imagine what it would be like." Krystal buried her head in her daughter's bruised shoulder.

* * *

"Spoiler, come on, calm down, no need to pin him down," Jason stepped forward to get closer to the girl. "At least take him to the wall, it's less frightening."

Her head raised to make eye contact with him, she nodded and slowly got off the man.

Jason easily forced the man upwards and against the wall. He shoved a forceful hand into one of the pockets.

Out ofit he drew a zip lock bag filled with a white clumpy substance.

* * *

Krystal finally allowed her daughter to be released, gathering her face up in her hands once more and to get a good look at her.

"Stephanie Brown, you scared the living shit out of me." The woman admitted to her. She turned her child's face from side to side to inspect it further, even though as a nurse she likely knew the extent of Stephanie injuries better than Stephanie did.

"That's my job." Stephanie joked.

"Stephanie Brown," her mother says with a tone of exasperation.

"Mom."

She knew it was coming, the speech about how this couldn't keep going on, how she needed to try to live a normal life. Krystal Brown had lost the semblance of a man that she had married, did she deserve to lose her daughter's life as well? Didn't she know that by continuing this game with the law she was showing Arthur that he had still an effect in her life, that she was still hurt and thought lesser of herself? The more mature thing would be to go home and live a normal life, show him that he did not own her legacy.

But with a tone of a woman aged twenty-five years older, with a woman who had lost much of the family that she still had, Krystal brown stated something that shook Stephanie to the core. "I'm so proud of you."

And with her mother's resignation to her future in the ground, Stephanie Brown finally decided to hang up the cloak.

* * *

Pining the man with his elbow, Jason tasted the substance underneath his mask before sighing and dropping the man.

"What's wrong?" Stephanie questioned.

"He's been hyping this god damn crack, selling it to anyone who looks like a user and…"

"What?"

The man looked wide-eyed to the ground when he finally returned to full contact with it before finally stating the issue. "It's stevia."

"You have to be fucking kidding me!" Jason groaned, leaning against the wall.

"Okay, in all fairness, it's rich kids…," The crook admitted, gathering his knees to his chest. "You don't want rich kids on drugs, those are the kids who can afford to overdose."

"Red Hood, you—" Stephanie began.

"I know!" Jason interrupted.

"You pulled me out here for Stevia?" Stephanie continued.

"I did not think it was Stevia, I didn't think that, okay?" Jason muttered. "I thought of an epidemic of dead junkies."

Her laughter filled the air.


	11. Blinded by the Light

Every inch of her body was absolutely and utterly wrecked.

Stephanie was reaffirmed of this fact the second she rolled over in bed to answer her ringing phone and felt like she had been hit by a train.

Not just the engine part, the whole damn miles long string of cars too.

"Brown." She grumbled as she finally managed to slide the call button. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flesh on her wrist, eggplant purple.

How fitting.

"Stephanie Brown," the voice of her boss began, "You have exactly five seconds to explain to me how Carrie Kelley is at Gotham airport, but your big blonde ass is nowhere near it."

"Huh?" She managed, bolting up in bed. She eyed the calendar across from her bed.

"Don't act like you don't know." She could practically hear the temple massage the woman was performing, "If anyone should be there at this very second it should be you."

She scrambled to find an excuse. "Well, Carrie works part time with cameras so…" No marks on her calendar. "I'm really sorry but I have no idea what's going on, some sort of attack or?"

"Some sort of attack?" The woman shrieked into the phone. "The only attack going on is a heart attack, which you are giving me!"

"Whoa!" Stephanie scrambled to her feet, finally finding the strength to change out of her 'Doughnut Question Me!' tank and underwear. "Let's slow down!"

"How is it," her furious voice began, "that you are currently interviewing -Wayne… And failed to know when his fiancée comes home?"

What?

"What?" She stated it on an inhale, accidentally sucking in her hair. A choking fit ensued.

"Tamara Fox! That's what! Where are you? She just arrived at Gotham Airport five minutes ago!"

* * *

All Stephanie Brown could say at this moment was thank god for her stupid fancy apartment.

Thank god her stupid fancy apartment was located two minutes from Gotham Air.

Thank god she settled into that stupid fancy apartment with makeup coating her face and that it didn't get too screwed up.

Thank god for fully covering long sleeved shirts.

And thank god for yoga pants, the lazy man's black dress pants.

She barely made it in time to see Tam exit the terminal and walk into the common area.

The cloud of bodyguards around Tam blocked the view as the press began to move in. Carrie Kelley and their corporate cameraman Allen Edge bumped into her back.

She cast them a halfhearted smile as they waved to her, Carrie returning with a much fuller smile.

And then the clouds parted.

Tam Fox was a fox.

Not a red furry fox, which would be a much better thing for Stephanie's existence.

An absolute babe.

Her hair was pulled up in a headscarf, which would make Stephanie look a deformed lamp, but only served to expose more of Tam's beautiful face. Her high cheekbones, her decently proportioned forehead, her pleasant nose, her full lips, the unfair dotting of freckles upon her cheeks and nose.

How the hell did Tim Drake end up with a goddess?

Her smile was gentle yet commanding, seas of reporters parted for her.

Stephanie found herself the most self-conscious she had been in her life.

When Tim showed up at the entrance of the airport the press exploded with cheerful noise.

Of course, boy wonder knew, he knew everything. He'd probably been expecting her back for a while now, likely since he was injured.

His smiling face now held no signs of peeling or burns. He was completely healed, evidently not only in body but also in spirit.

It was like that scene in the Prince of Egypt movie that she had watched all too often as a child, an over dramatic parting of seas. Only this time it was not the unmalleable water of the Nile, but rather the typically unwavering crowds of the press.

If it was possible, his smile grew wider. He looked like the Tim of her childhood.

Suddenly she did not feel well.

Tam left her bags with her bodyguards, of course, she did. She broke into a small run towards Tim. Tim held his arms out for her.

Stephanie Brown suddenly felt sick, the sickest she had felt in her life.

She turned to leave but instead caught the bright head of Carrie Kelley out of the corner of her eye.

Maybe she could distract herself.

She began to pull through the crowd, feeling gravely ill more and more as she pushed back.

The press erupted once more, she could only guess what had happened.

She collided with a reporter, his nametag read Nath Evergreen.

"Are you okay?" His voice was earnest, his eyes were blue.

His hair was black, his ears were too big.

He smiled, she shoved him away.

Storming she made her way through the crowd.

Cameraman after cameraman caught her upset face.

She groaned in anger as a hand clasped her wrist.

Fucking Nathan Evergreen.

"Miss, do you need help, I can-"

She snapped, "I don't need help from anymore blue eyed wonderboys, thank you, sir!"

All she needed was to get this job done before it messed with her head. Before sanity began to fly away from her.

She stomped out of the airport, leaving the confused and undeserving Nathan Evergreen in the doorway.

The ill-advised shoes she didn't remember putting on crunched against the pavement.

A cracking noise ensued as a heel flew off and she gave up.

* * *

"Nice to meet you at Nice to Meat You, my name is Charlie Hanson, how can I help you?" The waiter practically sang to the blonde. He ignored her messed up hair, smudged makeup, and the fact that she had slid into the booth holding a heel broken off of her shoe.

Because the world hated Stephanie Brown, this man also had black hair and blue eyes.

"Dumpster Burger, extra mayo." She grumbled.

"Miss, I don' think you read the menu, that's five poun-" He interjected.

"My face is on the wall, I think I know."

The waiter cast a look over to the wall to confirm this, the smiling face of Stephanie Brown hidden amongst others beside a rather young Tim Drake.

"Oh… You are."

"Fold the photo over when you get the chance, that guy died." She lied easily.

As the waiter grimaced and went back to the kitchen the bell rang once more for a customer. Stephanie buried her face in her arms as a weight fell on the cushion beside her.

"So…" Began the female voice.

"Why does everyone always know where I am?" Stephanie groaned.

"Why did cameras show you having some sort of breakdown?" Cass Cain replied easily.

"Seriously."

"It's not that hard to trace a cell phone." Cass leaned back against the seat. "So at least five cameras caught you today, Barbara's worried. Her face recognition software wasn't supposed to go off for you at that event."

"Yeah well, I shouldn't have been there. Just like how I should be here, in Gotham."

"You storming out of the crowd is going to be a Buzzfeed article tomorrow," Cass predicted.

Stephanie Groaned, shifting away from the smaller woman.

"Tim thinks you had food poisoning from your shitty dates." Cass elaborated.

"Even better."

"What is wrong, though?"

She sunk down the seat in response.

"Great answer, now you should elaborate."

A large groan emitted.

"Yes, I see."

"It just doesn't feel right." Stephanie gave in. "And it's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

Stephanie threw her arms in the air. "This. This whole thing, me being here, all it." She rolled her eyes. "I deserve a normal life as much as anyone, don't I?"

"I suppose."

"So why is it that I can't?"

"Can't what?"

"I can't physically do it!" She hissed. "I can't physically do any of it! Hold a normal job! Have a normal life! Have nice normal relationships!" She began to gain volume. "It should be my god given right to fall in love with any black haired blue eyed man, yet this idiot that I swear—"

"You swear?"

"I swear I am over! He keeps showing up! The things he does keep hurting me! I feel dizzy and crazy and! And!" Her head fell back against the wooden top of the booth. "I just want to hop on rooftops and punch the pain away."

"You're asking the wrong person." Cassandra was evidently amused, reaching for Stephanie's sprite with a smirk. "I can only understand one part of that rant and I'll leave you to guess it."

"But there's gotta be more than this Cass, there's gotta be more."

"More than saving the day?"

"Yes! More than saving the day."

The petite brunette took a sip of Stephanie's drink. "Well, there's not more for you."

"But there is for other people? How is that fair?"

"It's not. Life isn't—"

"No. Don't you tell me that. I deserved a normal life as much as anyone else—"

"Then why aren't you out there getting that normal life? Why are you craving the night? Why are rumors spreading that you went out for a night of crime fighting with Jason Todd?"

"Because Jason makes me feel alive." A sarcastic quip, a la Stephanie Brown.

"So you're in love with Jason?" Cass misunderstood. "I'm not really interested, but what a strange choice."

"God no."

Cass rolled her eyes.

"The man likely has maggots in his dick!" She snarled.

Stephanie's food finally arrived, the waiter cast her a confused look as he delivered it.

"Chicken." Stated Cass. "And water."

He walked away hurriedly.

"It's Tim's fault, I'm telling you, he's a life ruiner," Stephanie stated at full volume before biting into her greasy sandwich.

The Dumpster Burger was five pounds of meat and whatever was to be found in the kitchen.

"How is he ruining your life?" Cass questioned.

"By existing, by taunting me with his existence and his general—"

"Want to be around you?"

"Yes. It's not normal. He's the one who pushed me away."

"I sometimes wish to be around individuals who have pushed me away, such as much of my new family. Does that make me not normal?"

I was an easy reply for Stephanie Brown. "No, you're not normal, you're extraordinary."

Another smile was earned from of the smaller woman. "But Tim is not normal?"

"He's hurting me, he just doesn't get it."

Cassandra nodded for a second before responding, "I think it's normal to wish for people who were once a large portion in your life to come back."

"What?"

"everyone stated the same thing, you two spent every minute together when you were younger. Dick thinks hat Tim was craving that companionship before you left, but you pushed him away and embarked on a journey away from all us."

"Okay but—"

"You left without telling him and it hurt him, he might've seen this an opportunity to regain what he had lost by taking advantage of an unfair situation." Cass finished. "But that's what Dick believes."

"What do you believe?" Stephanie questioned.

"You've given me chances after I've hurt you and left you with a large responsibility. I don't understand relationships very well but I can't understand why Tim was not allowed the same."

"Cass, thing are much different between Tim and I—"

"Chick-chick-chicken! Cluck cluck cluck!" The waiter's voice filled the air as he placed the large plate of tenders in front of Cass. "You two ladies have a good time, okay?"

He offered them a big smile.

Both stared back at him blankly until he retreated to the kitchen.

"Chick-Chick-Chicken…" Stephanie began ominously.

"Cluck cluck cluck!" Cass matched her tone.

The two of them burst out laughing.

* * *

She was expecting him the second she got home, almost disappointed to see that he had not yet arrived for his seemingly mandatory visits. She shook her head, locking the door behind her.

Despite herself, she listened for any sign of another living human being as she kicked off her broken heels and finally threw them away.

No sign.

She must be crazy to be waiting for an engaged guy to show up to her house when his fiancée was home, kiss or no kiss.

She shrugged to herself, marching to the bathroom to immediately remove the makeup that was likely invading her pores.

Even straining to hear around the water bursting from the tap there was no noise.

She threw off her top and bra into the hamper, darting across the hall to her bedroom.

Still no person.

She threw on another baggy t-shirt.

Sighing to herself at the silence of her apartment she dove beneath the bed to find the metal music machine of her childhood.

Almost expecting another hand grasping hers, her hand instead wrapped around her radio as expected.

Another shrug, she walked into the kitchen, still hungry after a long day of eating a lot.

She placed the radio down gently, turning it on and allowing the songs to fill the air.

The smooth voice of Rick James filled the air immediately.

 _"When I came home last night…"_

She began to groove as she went through her fridge to pick out ingredients.

 _"You wouldn't make love to me!"_

Ah yes, cheese stuffed bacon wrapped beef hamburgers.

Good shit.

And, what was that? Spicy chicken nuggets.

Both could not be cooked in a frying pan, but both would be.

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, Mmmmm, give it to me baby!" Stephanie sang horribly, shoving the unholy pairing of food in a frying pan.

 _"Give it to me, that funk, that sweet, that funky stuff~"_

She flipped it over.

"How can I love ya? How can I love you, baby? When your body keeps on moving?" She screamed at the top of her lungs, her hips moving side to side as she cooked.

"I'll make you hot like you've had enough!" She crooned as she executed a perfect turn with the pan and dumped the food on her plate.

She executed this move perfectly until she looked up.

After which she promptly dropped the pan and proceed to scream in her pain as she pulled back her now burnt foot.

"Do you even knock?!" Her yell was a little too aggressive.

There was no telling how long Tim Drake was there, but his cheery face seemed to have taken in far too much for Stephanie's liking. Even behind that stupid black condom mask, it was very evident that he was grinning.

"You were busy." He stated.

"What are you? Some sort of voyeur?" More yelling on Stephanie's part as she pulled up her foot and hopped her way to the sink.

"I can help yo—"

"No. Don't touch me." She grimaced over her shoulder at him. "I would rather you touch no part of me."

"A fair request but—" Tim began.

"No buts." Stephanie deadpanned. "Absolutely not buts from you. You almost got me fired today!" Which was the first in her very long list of issues with him.

"Fired?"

"Yes! Fired! Guess who was apparently supposed to know when Tam Fox was coming back, the girl who has spent a month with her fiancée!" She shot him a glare as the cool water sucked the heat out of her wound. "Who thought, hey let's not even call and mention—"

"I wanted it to be a private affair."

"Private affair my ass, all the media was there, including my outlet!"

"I didn't call, she did—More importantly concerning that, are you sick?"

"Am I sick?" A warning glance.

"You rushed out—"

"I'm sick and tired of you." She deadpanned.

"Okay, that's not very fair—"

"I'm not food poisoned. Because the men who take me out," She lied, "Are very rich."

"Then what—"

Shit, then what?

"Food poisoning."

"You said it wasn't."

"Not from restaurant food—"

"Okay then—"

"My own cooking."

Both of their eyes drifted to her plate. Tim seemed to believe this and nodded.

"I wanted to invite you-"

"I have to decline all invitations, I have dates."

"It's your job."

Stephanie stared into the sink to come up with an excuse.

Tim cleared his throat.

"I won't need that job if these dates pan out." What a lie.

"Who are you dating?"

Fuck.

Who was she dating?

"Jason Todd." She had to stop herself from laughing at how outlandish the lie sounded, even coming from her own mouth.

"Jason?"

"Yeah. Jason. Jason Todd." She nodded.

"That would explain a lot about the rumors of your night activities." It was very evident that Tim Drake did not believe her ruse.

"He has a huge dick." She was rushed, this was it.

The air was nine months pregnant with silence.

"I see." His discomfort was very palatable. "Well, um, if you can take a break from that-"

"My big dick fuckings." Stephanie nodded. She had to stare at the sink to even manage to keep it together. Why was she this bad at lying to Tim?

"Then maybe you could go watch us register for gifts tomorrow." He was very very uncomfortable. "Tam said to invite you."

She was now also very uncomfortable. She pulled her foot out of the sink and plopped the wet appendage against the ground.

He cleared his throat once more.

She limped her way to the calendar and nodded at it, praying he didn't see how empty it was.

"Yeah, that's.." She closed it to protect her dignity. "The only day I'm not getting big dick fuckings."

"So… I'll see you." He nodded to her, not looking at her.

"Yeah, uh, maybe tell me what window you entered through." Another nod, this time to herself. "Gotta make sure it's secure, can't get robbed during my…"

"Big dick fuckings…?"

"Yes, those." She stated.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Another Chapter update!

I honestly hope that the past few chapters haven't been too weird or felt out of place. Expect a return of Jason in the next chapter.

On a sidenote: I have to ask as it's finally been pointed out to be not very obvious to readers, did you notice that the chapters are all named after oldies songs? These coincide with the general feel of the chapter, at least the feel I had as I was writing it.


	12. Mr Blue Sky

There were three things that Stephanie Brown was absolutely certain of:

Drake was completely and utterly a douchebag.

Now some may argue against his, considering his previous actions and the kindness he had shown her in the previous weeks that she had been back in Gotham; But Stephanie was certain that this was one of the new facts of her universe.

Drake and Tam Fox needed to register for just one store like normal people do. Choose a cheap supermarket and do the population attending their wedding a favor.

They had gone to every single store on the avenue, then moved to the next avenue and decimated that one's storefronts. Now they were in a large store intended for people far richer than the sort who had ever looked at Stephanie in her life.

that anyone can register for is by god given law, overpriced.

This is just a universal law, not even a law individual to Stephanie's world.

* * *

Tam handled everything with a level of preciseness that Stephanie had never managed in her life. To both Tim and Steph she provided a rather lengthy list of what exactly she would like from this store with an image of what that item was to look like, then entrusted the two of them to wander about the linen section as she marched off to the cooking section to decide the fate of their already well taken care of kitchen.

Even with the happy smile, Tam gave as she handed the piece of paper to Stephanie, the blonde got the feeling that the other woman was overwhelmed and just wished for some time alone.

Despite this, she was offended that she of all people was entrusted with the responsibility of being around this woman's fiancée.

She might have almost been touched if she didn't look over the show bed and notice the attention with which Tim was paying to every single item on the list.

In the past, Tim had cared about her wishes to the same extent.

She sighed, trying to steady that gnawing in the bottom of her stomach.

She still had a few very angry texts to answer from Jason last night.

She shook her head, pulling out her phone to reply to him and clear her mind with out of the corner of her eye she saw red.

Quickly she turned her head, seeing nothing but Tim in his offensively purple button up and gray slacks.

His shoes were black, no red in sight.

Shaking the crazy out of her head and her soul, she turned back to her phone, again seeing the red on the small portion of her nose within her eyesight. She tried to rub it off.

There was nothing on her hand.

She tossed an accusational look at Tim, who was comparing the thread count of sheets.

Innocent, or so it seemed.

She held out her own registry gun, scanning her head to see the same red on her hand.

Another square of red touched it.

A small snort was heard in the background.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne," she turned on her foot to face him, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

He clicked the scanner to flash the light on her forehead.

She just about dived over the bed to throttle him.

"Whoa," he broke out laughing.

Steph settled for a moment, thinking about the situation, she flashed her price scanner over his left nipple.

"Well, will you look at that." She deadpanned. "This one's cheap."

They made eye contact, her half on the bed and him standing, laughter ensued.

She rolled off the bed as he scanned beside her, shaking her shoulders in a victory dance.

He managed to scan a bob as she stuck out her tongue, prompting her face to mutate into a weirded out face. She shoved him, he managed to fall on the display bed.

"That's it!" She exclaimed. "You're going to get it!"

He cocked an eyebrow, "And what exactly is _it?_ "

She pushed a hand onto his chest, holding him against the bed. Threatingly holding the gun above his head.

She couldn't help herself.

"Red Robin, you've been caught red-handed." She whispered into his ear.

He guffawed with laughter.

"As your average makeshift vigilante, I've decided the best punishment for your crimes is… Blindment."

"Blindment?" He snorted hard, grabbing her forearm.

"Blinding?" She asked, flashing the light in his eyes before tumbling off him and onto the corner of the bed due to his increase in pressure onto her arms.

"Blinding." He groaned, rolling onto his side.

She managed to cover her eyes before his light showed up where her eyes would be.

Looking over his shoulder for any passersby, he rolled off the bed and stood up to red light her again.

She dove behind the bed laughing before popping back up with the red light.

"Fuck," she snorted.

"What?" He asked, shining the light on her forehead.

"I accidentally scanned that ugly chicken thing…"

The two looked over their shoulders to view a chicken composed almost entirely out of broken cd disks and designed into a horrible catastrophe of wire and reflective material. It perched itself inconveniently over Tim's shoulder, with its price tag just beside his ear.

"I think we can just…" Tim searched for the correct suggestion for the problem.

"An ugly key chicken?" Stephanie suggested.

"You know what? A centerpiece for our table." He nodded decisively, a true boy genius.

She cracked a smile at him, laughter escaping her lips.

Stephanie finally began to stand up off the ground, brushing herself off and nodding to him. Despite her earlier dread, she found herself enjoying certain pieces of the shopping trip more than others.

Maybe Tami just had that effect on Tim, just made him a bearable person who expressed actual happiness.

They beamed at each other in happiness before realizing what they had been doing. Tim's face fell first, just as she had expected it to. He straightened up and dug the forgotten list out of his pocket.

She cast her eyes away from him and to really anything else in the room.

Like thread count.

Thread count was important.

"We have almost everything, we just have one item left to find." Tim declared.

"And that is?"

"I can't believe she listed it, really." He admitted.

"What?"

"Stain guard duvet cover."

Duvet?

"Duvet?"

"It's like a comforter." He supplemented. "It's just a little embarrassing to be looking for…"

"Stain resistant sheets?" Steph rolled her eyes. "Get used to it, Timmy boy. If you're going to go around bleeding on everything."

He shook his head at her, refolding the paper to shove back in his pocket. "I just feel like this all could be easier."

"To be honest?" Stephanie said, "I probably would have chosen Target."

Tim, who had just begun to walk away from her, stopped in his tracks and looked back at her.

Stephanie shrugged.

"What is up with you people and Target?"

"It's a damn good place."

* * *

After the duvet cover had been located Tam took them to Gianna's, an Italian restaurant that served a surprisingly small selection of pasta. What it did happen to serve was a rather large amount of fish, of which Stephanie was never particularly fond of, and a rather small amount of crustaceans. To add to the pains of such a scenery, the booth in which they were seated was a bit closer to either of them than she had ever cared to be, despite the smiling face Tam provided when she squeezed in beside her.

Perhaps it was because Stephanie could see Tim's hand on Tam's leg underneath the table.

After the third time shooing away the waitress for all parties to decide what to eat, Tim began to grow impatient.

"Spaghetti with meatballs?" Stephanie smiled hopefully over the table at him.

"Not actually Italian cooking, they'll scorn you for it. We've been over this four times" He stated.

Tam scooted closer, looking over her shoulder at the menu.

"I'll help you, it's not a big deal. We're waiting on someone anyway." Tam admitted, her hand grasping Stephanie's to adjust the menu for Tam's viewing angle.

The woman had skin the same texture of Stephanie's fleece tie blanket before it began to pill.

"I don't like fish," Steph muttered unhelpfully.

"Can you stand the scent?" Tam replied, "I want to order some." She smiled apological.

"Not really," Tim rolled his eyes in the background as Steph cast Tam an earnest smile, "It makes me a little sick."

"Jason will sit between us," Tam stated conclusively.

What.

"Jason?" Oh god no. She should have checked her phone.

"Your boyfriend. Tim's brother?" Tam supplemented.

Stephanie's eyes drifted across the table to Tim, who looked equally put off by this notion but seemed to offer no protest. His arms were crossed and his lips were strained as he made eye contact with her.

"Oh. Yeah!" Stephanie nodded, "My skunky wunky. I also call him…" Anything, anything at all would be helpful to come to mind, she sipped her water to buy time.

"Big Dick Jay." A voice came from behind her. She choked on her water.

Jason Todd, clad in ripped blue jeans and a faded brown leather jacket, reached for her wrist to pull her out of the booth. She made desperate eye contact with the man, looking like a crazy woman.

He shook his head at her and cast the table a charming smile.

"But of course in public…" She clarified. "I call him BDJ."

"She came up with this because, well, you know…" He slid in beside Tam. "She makes those _Freudian_ slips." His smile turned to a smirk as he stared down Tim Drake. "Kept calling me BJ, just had to make it into a little… _inside_ joke."

Tam's smile faltered, she was obviously uncomfortable with such overly sexual displays.

"Well, maybe keep that joke inside of your home." Tim supplemented, looking like he would very much like to murder the two of them.

"Speaking of home!" Tam interjected, turning to Tim.

Stephanie immediately jerked her head to look at the new jerk in the booth.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She whispered into Jason's ear.

"Well if you checked your text messages Blondie you would know." His face was unamused. "And just so you know, one night of watch does not a relationship make, no matter who saw."

"You were the only name that came to mind."

"That's because no one wants to be involved with your shit." Jason hissed.

Tam's head darted back around to look at the couple, realizing she was forgetting the two.

She smiled genuinely, they both smiled too wide and too strange. It became evident that she was uncomfortable with that.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom." Tam nodded to herself.

The pair's eyes landed on Tim.

He did not look happy.

"I am also going to go to the bathroom," Steph added.

"Yeah, I'm going to go with you." Jason nodded.

"There's only one restroom," Tim stated. "Tam you go." It was more of a command.

No.

Fuck.

Tam smiled graciously and left for the single restroom.

"Why are you two the worst human beings I have ever met?" Tim snarled.

"Whoa, hey, rude," Jason replied, pulling out his phone.

"I bought it last night when it was just her." He pointed a finger to Stephanie. "But I'm definitely not buying it right now."

"Okay but—" Stephanie began.

"No buts. l can't even do this, this is—"

A beep sounded off Tim's phone.

"Looks like you don't have to."

Stephanie's phone vibrated against her thigh just once.

"Blondie and I will take care of it," Stephanie had just begun to take out her phone as Jason spoke. "No worry about your stupid dinner date anymore."

Panic in Gotham ensues as…

"Stephanie is not a superhero anymore, Jason, she hasn't worn a cape for five years," Tim replied.

The Riddler and Cluemaster…

"You honestly didn't tell him? I get that it was just one night but—" Jason cast a look to Stephanie, whose eyes were glassing over as she read the alert. "Man forget that, do talk to no one, Tim? Or are you that stupid?"

"Stephanie." It was a mixture of begging and scolding, an annoying combo managed only by Tim Drake.

Stephanie made eye contact with him, picking up the discarded bag that she had left under the table.

He looked like he couldn't believe her.

"I..." She provided.

"You said you didn't want this life."

Jason shook his head beside her, she bit her lip.

"Tim, it's my dad."

"You said you didn't want this and you left us all." His reply was even yet did the work it intended. "You didn't want what he did to own you."

She slowly began to lower her bag before Jason replied. "So, she's supposed to sit back and let innocent people die?"

"She's supposed to stay safe."

"What happens when I'm one of the innocent people and the place I'm in gets attacked?" Stephanie piped up. "Just because I'm not a hero doesn't mean I'm safe, it means I'm waiting on someone else to do the work. And Tim? It's getting to the point where I can't do that anymore."

Stephanie stood, letting Jason out of the booth.

"Stephanie, I-" Tim began.

"No, you don't anything me!" She yelled.

Tim hurried to his feet, reaching for her wrist.

"I can't watch you kill yourself again."

"But you can kick me in the stomach?" She slapped his hand away.

He seemed dumbstruck, reaching for words anywhere.

"Let me come with you," Tim demanded.

"No. Stay here at your date and get married and have your nice life, don't mess with mine."

Tam had returned, she stood in the background beside Jason. Tim stared at her a moment, deliberating as to what he could do, what he should do, and what he would do.

He knew he would regret it.

"Steph, I love you."

Simultaneously many things occurred.

Stephanie Brown's face softened.

Jason Todd was repulsed.

Stephanie's hand fell on the napkin dispenser in the middle of the booth.

And Tam Fox felt a mixture of despair and relief.

"Then you know that you have to let me go, and you have to let me fight right now. Tim, you know that you can't come with because you're going to try and stop me."

He lunged at her like a feral cat, gathering her in his arms and pressing his lips against her. Drinking in every aspect of the Stephanie Brown he had known.

"I have to leave." Tam Fox, a now well steeled lady.

He pulled away and he looked at her, his eyes were desperate and pleading.

A breath.

Her free hand graced his face for a second, he was like a miracle.

Her occupied hand slammed the napkin dispenser across his face shortly after.

The filled dispenser dropped to the ground.

He crumpled to the floor.

"I have to do this," Stephanie repeated. "He dropped a building on me, Tim. I have to do this without you."

* * *

 **Author's note:**

What a weird overwhelming ride we have been on. This work has not turned out anything like I've expected, it's a little disappointing.

We are about two or three chapters away from being done.

After this piece is done I have a checklist:

-Fix Eyes of the Press and make it an actually respectable story that showcases my writing skill in a way that this piece does not.

-Produce weird Harry Potter Fake Historical pieces with the Marauder's Era cast.

-Produce some Miraculous Lady Bug fics, possibly one shots.

At a later date, however, this piece may be completely rewritten. In that case, it will be saved in this form to Archive of our own for the curious reader/ one who enjoys the original better.

Also, someone asked for the ages:

Stephanie- 25

Tim- 24

Cass- 23

Tam - 25

Dick -29

Jason - 27

Barbara - 31

Damian - 16

Bruce- 44

Alfred - Old

Are these in line their age differences in canon? Likely not but canon has changed so much in seven years that any ages that I post now will be incorrect when someone finds this fanfic in two years.


End file.
